


Sugar Baby

by henley_sarah



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Handcuffs, Idiots in Love, Masturbation, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Philip Anderson Being an Idiot, Pregnancy, Shameless Smut, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being a Drama Queen, Sherlock is a Brat, Sherlock is a Good Boyfriend, Sherlock is a Sex God, Sugar Daddy, Tags Contain Spoilers, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vibrators, Virgin Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-26 07:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 25,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18278393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henley_sarah/pseuds/henley_sarah
Summary: "So," he closed his newspaper. "Describe your job to me." He then folded his hands in front of his mouth, leaning forward, gazing at me.I gave a small smile and crossed my legs. "My job is to spend time with my Sugar Daddy or Mommy. Go on dates with them, spend time at their place with them, or my place, whatever they like. I'm there to listen to them, offer advice if they'd like it, just be something to help them relax and have a bit of fun."





	1. It's a love story for the new age

SHERLOCK

Lestrade liked to give me the funny cases, the odd ones, and this was one... quite odd.

At first, we thought it was just a bunch of girls being kidnapped, tortured, and killed. Then I went to look at the bodies of the four girls so far, and talk to their friends and family and I found something I wasn't really expecting.

"They're... sugar babies," John said beside me, taking a while to process this.

"We need to find out who their... uh, employers were. See if any of them shared the same person." I said, then hummed. "We might want to gather up other girls who have also been employed by these people, past and present."

So Lestrade and the rest of Scotland Yard did that, and when they had all the girls gathered, he summoned me.

I have honestly never seen so much skin in my life. All on one floor, gathered in one room were about thirty girls, all made up with their hair done, most dressed a little scantily.

"John, you may want to close your mouth now," I said lowly, and he gathered himself to get this started.


	2. For the sixth page

BLAIR

I sat in this sort of office where a bunch of cops worked with dozens of other babies. I tried to keep my eyes to myself but kept peeking at the other girls with golden tanned skin, confidently wearing mini skirts and bodycon dresses.

I wasn't new to the sugar bowl, definitely not. I've been here long enough (five years actually) to know that their brand of sugar baby got the most attention. They picked up Daddies and Mommies the easiest. They shaped the world of sugar babies.

All sugar babies had personas, we had to. I based my persona after an aesthetic I liked; old Hollywood glamour, mixed with a little child-like appeal. So I sat in this hard ass plastic chair in an everyday sundress and heels, my hair in a high ponytail, my eyelids a rose color with gold glitter, my lips a berry color, the rest of my face as perfect as a doll's.

Another baby came over who I knew and sat beside me. "How are you, Blair, honey?" She asked.

I gave a small sigh. "I'm tired." I blinked and looked at her with a little smile.

"I'm sure you'll be out of here in no time. Are you off today?" She asked and I nodded. "I had a date thirty minutes ago. My Daddy was not happy that I was being summoned to the Yard."

"Well, it's not like you can control it." I touched her arm lightly. She smiled with a hum.

I turned back and began looking at the different people who worked here. I pursed my lips, trying to guess who was the most gullible, or just thirsty for attention. I spotted a pale guy with dark hair who just looked liked he wanted to be useful.

"Hey, you want some coffee or something?" I looked over at her.

"Nah, I'm good... What are you up to?" She smirked and I shushed her before I stood up and slipped over to the door that led out to a hallway. According to plan, he came over, asking what I was doing.

"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering... oh my God." I suddenly gasped and he looked a bit confused.

"Is something wrong?" He asked.

"No, it's just... wow. You have some of the prettiest eyes I've ever seen." I said, sounding like I was amazed.

A small smile came to his face. "Oh. You- you really think so?"

"Yes! Oh my gosh, you are just blessed, you really are." I gave a soft giggle for extra effect.

"Thanks. Uh, what were you wondering?" He asked and I blinked.

"Oh, right! You totally distracted me there. Sorry." I brought my thumb up to my lips and bit it softly. "I was just wondering if there was some way I could get a cup of coffee? Ugh, I'm just dead tired."

"Oh, I- I could get it for you." He said.

"Oh, really? That's so sweet of you!" I smiled nice and big and sweet and literally saw him go into a daze.

"Uh, stay here. I'll be right back." He said and went out, and I leaned on the wall next to the door, letting my face drop. It didn't take him but a minute to come back and he handed me a big mug of steaming coffee.

"Aw, thanks, cutie." I smiled and touched his arm before I went back to my seat, sipping as I sat down.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Another baby sighed.

"Go and try if you want," I whispered to her. "Compliment his eyes, that's what I did. He's a bit desperate for attention." I said and heard some other babies listening in.

I was then called in for questioning. I went into the room and sat down, taking a sip before holding the mug in my lap.

"Where did you get that?" A man with silver hair asked.

"Oh, a guy out there gave it to me." I pointed to the door.

"Guy? What guy?" He asked.

"Pale, dark hair..." I started.

"Dumb expression?" The dark haired one asked.

"Yeah." I nodded.

"Anderson." He said, and the silver-haired one sighed.

They introduced themselves as Detective Inspector Lestrade, Dr. John Watson, and Sherlock Holmes. They asked for a list of any Daddies and Mommies I had in the past, and any that I was presently seeing. So I gave them a list of names and found that I apparently shared a few with the deceased girls. Two in the past and one now.

They then asked for any suspicious behavior on the three, and I had to think back.

"Was there any talk of other girls while you two were together? Did they ever get angry? Have any sort of drug or alcohol problems?" Dr. Watson asked.

"Oh, the first one is a huge coke addict." I spilled. "And I mean huge. Mountains of coke. I don't know how he's not dead." I sat back, shaking my head, sipping my coffee.

"Second one drank a little too much, but he wasn't a violent drunk or anything. More like a horny, sleepy drunk." My lip curled in disgust.

"You didn't like that?" Sherlock looked almost amused.

"Who would?" I shrugged.

"Anything on the third? The one you're seeing now?" Dr. Watson asked.

"I mean, he's been fine so far. Not horrible, not the greatest. Just fine." I hummed with a smaller shrug.

Sherlock just tilted his head and asked for a moment alone with me. The other gave him looks, but left anyway, closing the door. I was a bit confused as he sat up a little straighter, eyes locked on me.

"You can drop the act now." He said.

"Act?" I tilted my head.

"The sweet girl act." He nodded.

"Oh." I let my voice drop. "Suppose I could." I hummed.

"Anderson," Sherlock said and I just looked at him. "I was watching a little. Impressive."

"Thank you," I said.

"Are you used to getting what you want with manipulation?" He asked, and I smiled a little.

"Am I a suspect?" I asked, and Sherlock gave a low chuckle.

"No. Forget the case for a minute. Are you?"

"Yes. Mostly." I answered.

"Mostly?" He asked.

"It doesn't work on everyone. Some people can call bluffs." I shrugged a little.

He stared at me for a minute and then held his hand out. "Phone."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I want to put my number in." He said without a change in expression.

"Why?" I asked again.

"Because I have more questions for you."

"Ones you can't ask here?"

"Definitely not." He just blinked, his hand still waiting for my phone.

A little smile came to my face. "Are you planning on hiring me?" I asked, taking my phone out and unlocking it, going to new contacts before I handed it over.

"Somewhat." He answered as he typed his number in.

"Somewhat? It's a yes or no question." I raised my brows.

"I'll explain later when I'm done here." He typed a bit more, then handed me my phone back, and I saw he had sent himself a text saying only my name. Blair Pitch.

"Should I be expecting a call or a text?" I asked.

"Text. An address." He just said, and I nodded. "So you'll come?"

"Can't say you haven't got me intrigued," I admitted, and he smirked slightly.

"I'll see you later then," Sherlock said, and I took that as my dismissal, so I gave him a last smile and left, not sparing the guy who got me coffee even a glance as I left.


	3. We're on a quick, sick rampage

That night Sherlock texted me an address. 221B Baker Street. I grabbed my bag and hailed a cab, and was soon standing in front of the door.

I knocked and an older lady opened the door. "Hi." I smiled kindly. "I'm here for Sherlock Holmes?"

She led me up some stairs and opened a door. "Sherlock, this girl says she's here to see you."

He looked up from the black chair he was sitting on, a newspaper open on his lap. "Hi." He said.

"Hi." I smiled back and the old woman left. Sherlock gestured for me to sit down, so I set my bag down and sat in the chair opposite him.

"So," he closed his newspaper. "Describe your job to me." He then folded his hands in front of his mouth, leaning forward, gazing at me.

I gave a small smile and crossed my legs. "My job is to spend time with my Sugar Daddy or Mommy. Go on dates with them, spend time at their place with them, or my place, whatever they like. I'm there to listen to them, offer advice if they'd like it, just be something to help them relax and have a bit of fun."

"And in return...?" Sherlock hummed.

"Gifts." I nodded. "Usually ranges from checks, paying my bills, or you know, actual gifts."

"What do you prefer?" He asked, and I chuckled.

"Someone's done their homework."

"Had to know exactly what I was getting into." Sherlock just hummed.

I smiled a little. "I prefer having my bills covered. Maybe a check here and there, it doesn't really matter to me. As for gifts... nothing too extravagant. Like, no cars. I can't accept a car."

Sherlock chuckled a little. "Reasonable. I assume this is the part where we work out a schedule?"

"Before that, I have to know what you expect of me," I said.

"What I expect of you?" His brows twitched and I smiled a little wider.

"What is my purpose here? Why are you hiring me?" I explained.

"Oh, that." He nodded. "I prefer to have company while working cases. John is usually with me, but he's just becoming busier and busier with his own job. So, I'd like someone to listen to my rambling that you probably won't understand half of anyway."

I nodded, and his eyes met mine again. "I also have a sort of job for you."

"Oh?" My brows raised.

"Your manipulation skills, they are quite impressive. Anderson's a blithering idiot, but still." Sherlock hummed. "I'm curious to see if you can manipulate me."

I smiled a little. "Manipulation usually doesn't work if the other party is aware of it."

"I'm always aware of everything all the time. I just want to see if you can catch me off guard. If I can be caught off guard." He gave a small shrug.

I pursed my lips and slowly nodded. "Alright. I'm interested. One last thing before we start working out the schedule, I don't sleep with any Daddies or Mommies, so if you were expecting sex..."

"I wasn't," Sherlock answered.

"And I'll need to know your boundaries for affection," I said, and his brows twitched again.

"What are your boundaries?" He asked.

"I allow casual displays of affection. Nothing really more than what you would see couples in public do." I said. "However, as time passes, if we become more comfortable with each other, I usually allow more."

"That's fine with me." Sherlock nodded, and I smiled and got my phone out of my bag, going to my calendar.

"For the schedule, there's really only two set times we need to agree on..." I started.

"When we meet, and when you get paid." Sherlock finished.

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm free Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays."

"You have other Daddies?" He asked.

"Three." I nodded.

"Leave them." He said, shocking me.

"I'm sorry?" I stared.

"Leave them. I can pay you more than all three combined if that'll convince you." Sherlock just shrugged.

"Why?" I asked, still shocked he would suggest it.

"Because I don't work well with schedules. I may need you while you were with one of them, so we may as well eliminate that problem at the start." He said.

I just sat still, shocked. "Babies don't break it off. Ever."

"Why not?" He hummed.

"It makes us look bad." I shook my head. "If it gets spread through the community that a baby is a type to just ditch suddenly, it becomes really hard to find anyone who will hire."

Sherlock hummed. "Fine. I'll help you."

"Help...? Help me end three separate jobs?" I blinked, my eyes widening.

"Why not?" Sherlock shrugged. "Come on, Blair. I know you're tempted."

My lips parted in surprise, and when Sherlock asked for their names, I gave them.

He just smiled proudly at me. "Good. Now that that's out of the way, just bring me your bills whenever they come in."

I nodded, hitting the power button on my phone and let my hand drop into my lap.

"You're surprised." He noted.

"Yeah... this isn't usually the way things are done..." I said.

"Can't say I'm a fan of doing things the way they're usually done." Sherlock gave a little shrug. "When I invite you over, you don't have to bother with getting fancied up. Wear whatever you want."

I was still surprised, but he went on. "Oh, and there's that thing about allowances... hm. How much do you want?"

"That's not for me to decide." I shook my head.

"How much do you usually get?"

"Three thousand." I just blinked, and Sherlock hummed and looked like he was thinking.

The door opened, and I looked over and saw Dr. Watson, whose eyebrows rose.

"What's going on here?" He asked, shrugging his jacket off.

"Thinking up blackmail for Mycroft." Sherlock hummed, and I turned to look at him again.

"My brother," He quickly explained. "He practically runs the British government and parts of the American government."

Oh. So a super-rich family. Okay. Lucky me.

"Sherlock," John started. "You're not a Sugar Daddy."

"By definition, now I am." Sherlock just said, and I chuckled through my nose, and I saw John staring at me out of the corner of my eye.

"She'll be here quite often." Sherlock hummed and I looked back and gave the stunned man a smile.


	4. Wining and dining

Sherlock texted for me to come over the very next morning. I put on a pair of skinny jeans and a regular flannel shirt I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows on. I couldn't make the transition away from heels yet, though, so some high wedges would do. I did my makeup perfectly, as I couldn't make myself abandon that either. I got my bag and took a cab, this time just walking in and going up the stairs.

I knocked on the door before stepping in, and Sherlock looked up at me from his chair.

"Blair. Hi." He hummed. "I took care of the three men last night for you."

"I hope that you taking care of them doesn't mean you killed them," I said as I set my bag down and sat across from him. "John's at work?"

Sherlock just nodded, and I licked over my teeth as I thought. "Do you want to talk me through your thinking?"

Sherlock looked at me and began speaking very quickly, but naturally being a fast talker myself, I caught every word.

"My original thinking was that it was a Daddy who killed these girls. I could've said it was a Daddy or Mommy, but statistically speaking, men are more likely to be killers than women. I was a bit hung up for a while though on a possible motive, until you mentioned that babies rarely ever break things off. So then I got to thinking that maybe these girls had tried to leave our killer, which just angered him? These girls were tortured brutally before they were killed, so there is emotion behind these murders. It's personal. I then thought that it might not even be a Daddy at all, but another baby. I imagine there is a bit of jealousy running through the community, especially seeing as most Daddies have multiple babies at once. I also then brought in the possibility that it's someone that just can't afford a baby. They tried to hire the girls, when they found he had no money and refused him, he got angry, and so on and so forth. So I have three different scenarios I'm betting on."

I nodded slowly, humming as I thought it through, and yeah, all three made sense.

"What are your hobbies?" Sherlock then asked, and I tilted my head. "Just curious."

"I read," I said, straightening my head again. "I read quite a bit. I write some, too."

"What do you write?" He asked.

"Fiction."

"What type?" He asked, and I chuckled a little. "What?"

"You'd laugh." I smiled softly at him.

"I wouldn't." Sherlock shook his head.

"Horror. Psych thrillers." I kept my smile on, and his brows rose. "Don't look it, do I?"

"I don't judge." Sherlock simply said. "You might be a more perfect choice than I originally thought."

"Oh really?" I smirked.

"I can take you to morgues without you freaking out, for one," Sherlock said, and my smile grew.

"I suppose that's true." I nodded. I then caught sight of a stand with sheet music on it. "What do you play?" I asked, and he looked over.

"Violin," Sherlock said, and I gave a small smile. "Do you like the violin?"

"Yes." I nodded. "And piano. Violin and piano together sound amazing, though."

"Do you play anything?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"I used to play the piano. I wasn't really good at it, though. I haven't played since... oh, since I was thirteen, I think." I sighed.

I then remembered I was supposed to be working on manipulating him. But see, Sherlock was clever. He wasn't like the gullible, desperate people I was used to. This would be a challenge. I was up to it, though.

I couldn't jump into obvious flirting like I usually did. That wouldn't work on him. I had to be subtle. How can I be subtle?

I zoned out as I began to think, unaware that Sherlock was watching me, just as silent, thinking himself.

My first idea was gentle touches. Maybe a brush of my hand over his arm, his shoulder or something. Just so he would get used it, then I might move to skin contact, stir up some of the chemicals in his brain at the contact.

But when would I start flirting to draw him in? Do I even remember how to subtlety flirt? I wasn't going to twirl my hair around my finger, that was far too obvious.

"Do you want some tea?" I asked suddenly, and he looked up and met my eyes.

"Sure. Cupboard to the right above the stove." Sherlock said, and I gave him a smile as I got up and went over to put the kettle on and prepare mugs with tea bags in them, keeping them close to the heat source so they'd warm up.

Maybe I could Pavlov him? Make him associate me with positive feelings. But what makes him happy? What makes dopamine fire off in his head?

I stood at the stove, trying to figure it out, and the water soon came to start bubbling. I turned the stove off and poured the water in.

"How do you take your tea, Sherlock?" I asked.

"Just black is fine." He hummed, newspaper open again.

I found their sugar, and when the tea was the right color, I got both teabags out and threw them away, then put two spoonfuls of sugar into mine. I put the sugar away and stirred mine up, then went and grabbed two pieces of ice from the freezer and swirled them around before dropping a piece in each one.

I set Sherlock's down next to him and went to my seat, sitting and sipping mine.

I got back to thinking as I sipped, and Sherlock hummed after he drank a bit.

"You're quite good at making tea," Sherlock said, and I gave a little smile.

Bingo.

"Thanks. My mom says I have it down to an art form." I chuckled softly.

"Mrs. Hudson always makes it a little bitter." He noted.

"She probably squeezes the bags afterward. You don't want to do that." I shook my head. "That, and she probably also follows brewing times."

"What? Are brewing times wrong?" He asked with a little smile.

"Yes. Depending on the temperature of the water. Hotter water makes tea steep faster. The hotter the water, the less time to brew." I explained. "It's color you want to look for."

Sherlock was just gazing at me, and I gave a sheepish smile. "I just... really like tea."

"I'd say. You have a collection at home, don't you?" He asked.

"Yeah..." I admitted. It was a bit embarrassing to tell people I collected tea. It's not really something that people collect.

"Well then, I'm curious. What's your favorite?" He asked, and I blew out some air as I tried to think.

"An Irish blend I got some years ago," I answered. "It's what I drink most often, at least."

"Are you Irish?" Sherlock asked, drinking more.

"Half," I nodded. "On my dad's side."

"So you've got family over there?" He asked and I nodded. "Where?"

"Mostly in Waterford, and some in Galway." I hummed.

"And your mum's side?"

"Dorset. Where are you from?" I asked.

"Wales." He answered.

"Wales is a pretty big place." I chuckled.

"Newport." He gave in, and I smiled, sipping my tea.

"And we both ended up in London. Funny how that happens."


	5. Drinking and driving

Another girl's body turned up just a day later. Sherlock hadn't invited me over yet, so he told me to go to Scotland Yard. If I got there before them, wait outside for him. If otherwise, he'd be waiting outside for me.

So I got ready quickly. Nothing special, just jeans, normal shirt, bomber jacket, wedged booties. And perfect makeup as always.

I grabbed my bag and left, tying my hair up into a high ponytail in the cab. I paid him and saw Sherlock and John waiting outside the doors, so I went over with a smile and greeted them.

"Did I keep you waiting long?" I bit my lip slightly as Sherlock touched my back, leading us inside.

"No, not long. You're fine, Blair." He assured me. I gave a little smile and followed him through the halls. I was getting some looks, but I was used to them, so I just ignored them all.

Sherlock led us to the same office, and silver-haired man, Lestrade, looked incredibly tired in his chair.

"We got crime scene photos, but the body's already been sent down to St. Bart's." He said, giving Sherlock a file, which he began to flip through.

I peeked, and frowned, recognizing the thick brown braids.

"Oh... I knew her." I sighed softly, and they each looked at me. "Amara. Sweet little thing. That's a shame, she wouldn't even hurt a fly. If she wasn't working, she was at an animal shelter volunteering."

"Can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt her?" Sherlock asked me, and I hummed.

"I know some of the other babies didn't like her. They thought she was a little goody-two-shoes." I pursed my lips. "Oh! One of her Daddies tried to rape her like a year ago."

"Tried?" Sherlock asked.

"She pepper sprayed him, then pulled out a switchblade to defend herself," I said and was getting looks from the other two. "It's a dangerous job, we have to protect ourselves. Why do you think our bags are so big?" I said and held up my own.

We left, Sherlock taking the file, and he lead us out again, hand on my back.

"Freak with a gold digger. Never thought I'd ever witness that." A female voice said, and we looked over and I saw a smug looking woman.

John told her to apologize to me and Sherlock, and Sherlock muttered something about that never happening.

"It's alright, John." I smiled and he looked at me like I was crazy. "Most people, women especially, try to bring us sugar babies down to hide the fact that they're jealous."

"Jealous?" She scoffed.

"Mhm." I nodded, keeping up my sweet act. "Jealous that you don't get the same gifts, the same kind of treatment in your relationships. Jealous because maybe you're not as pretty, maybe you can't act as well, or maybe you're just, you know, intolerable." I gave a little shrug while still smiling.

She gaped at me for a few seconds before getting mad. "You are nothing more than a plastic, overpaid whore."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night." I blinked innocently.

Sherlock lead me away again, a proud little smile on his lips. "I should bring you everywhere."

"Well, I am free twenty-four seven." I hummed with a smile as well.

The three of us fit into one cab to get to St. Bart's hospital, and when we were going down, John asked if it was a good idea to bring me to the morgue.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Sherlock asked right before he pushed open the doors.

The woman in the lab coat stared at me when I stepped in, but her gaze softened when Sherlock and John came in behind me.

"Here for the girl?" She asked.

"If you wouldn't mind." Sherlock smiled and John came up to me.

"Just to warn you, that's Molly, and she kind of has a thing for Sherlock." He said softly to me, and I nodded, glad to know, but now unsure what to do.

Do I keep my distance to not hurt her feelings? Or do I get close to let her know he's not available? I mean, I didn't know for certain, but I'm pretty sure Sherlock is a one-girl-at-a-time kind of guy.

She brought the body out, and my eyebrows pinched together at a mark near her collarbone.

"You see something?" Sherlock asked me softly.

"Maybe... I'd need to see her thighs." I mumbled back.

"Can we see her thighs, please, Molly?" Sherlock asked and she unzipped the bag a little more, and I recognized the markings on her thighs.

"They whipped her," I said then.

"Those aren't whipping markings," Molly said, giving me somewhat of a hard look.

"Yeah, they are. Maybe not your type of whip..." I hummed.

"Oh..." Sherlock breathed softly like he just understood something. "Molly, can you show us the pictures of the markings on the other girls?" He said and Molly put the body back and went to grab them.

He picked a few out and showed me. "Think you can identify them?"

I hummed and looked close. "Not entirely sure, but that's probably a paddle. Covers a wide area, completely red. Probably a paddle." I nodded at the first one.

I looked at the second one and grinned. "Hairbrush," I said and went to move on.

"They use hairbrushes?" John asked in disbelief and I nodded.

I then squinted at the third one. It was very very tiny scratches, and my first thought was knife play, but these were far too thin for that.

"I don't know this one. Maybe a knife, but I'm not sure." I hummed.

"Far too thin to be a knife." Sherlock hummed close to my ear.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too." I pursed my lips. "But see the way they go down her torso? That's common in knife play."

I kept staring, ignoring the bewildered look on John's face and the mad one on Molly's.

I then looked at the fourth one and said that was a different type of whip. I looked back at the third, wanting so badly to figure it out. What was smaller than a knife that's probably sharp and can leave scratches? A razor? Razor's usually left thicker cuts...

"Oh, fucking duh, it's a needle." I huffed, mad at myself for not seeing it sooner. "Not really common, but I've heard of a few people using needles before instead of knives."

Sherlock handed the pictures back and got to thinking as we left. This time he got a cab just for me and him, telling John to get the next one.

"So they weren't just being regularly tortured, but sexually..." Sherlock sighed. "Would you know anyone in the community who enjoys that?"

"Sorry, no." I shook my head. "We're a pretty open community, but not that open."

"Worth a shot." He hummed. "Hungry?"

"Sure." I smiled.


	6. Excessive buying

Sherlock took me to this Italian place, telling me a story of how he got the owner and manager off a murder charge because he was across the country breaking into houses.

Sure enough, we were greeted warmly by said man, who told us anything we wanted was on the house.

We sat in a booth, and I sat perpendicular to the window, as Sherlock had his back to the window, and I shook my head slightly.

"What?" He asked and I flipped open the menu.

"I just couldn't sit where you are. I hate not being able to see what's behind me." I hummed and did a quick read-through.

"Your ancestors were probably predators, hunters," Sherlock said, and I smiled.

"My mom says the same thing. She's the same way." I chuckled a little. "I caused so much trouble in school because I would always sit in the back row, just so there wouldn't be anyone behind me. Even if we had assigned seats, I didn't care." I gave a little shrug.

The man came around, and I asked for a coke and fettuccine alfredo, and Sherlock just got water and lasagne.

"How do dates usually work?" He asked, and I blinked.

"Are you asking like a sugar baby date or just a date in general?" I asked.

"Both, I guess." Sherlock shrugged.

"Well, regular dates, you usually just spend time with someone, get to know them a bit better. Talk about your interests, hobbies, your likes, and dislikes." I nodded. "With sugar baby dates, it's more the Daddy talks, baby listens."

"That's not entirely fair." Sherlock's brows furrowed.

I just shrugged. "My job is just to be the perfect girlfriend."

"And that means you can't talk about your likes, interests, and all that?" He asked.

"Generally, yeah." I nodded.

"Well, that's bullshit." He hummed, and a laugh bubbled up in me that I couldn't keep down.

Sherlock just looked sideways at me. "What else aren't you allowed to do generally?"

I thought for a moment and hummed. "I'm not allowed to dress casually or anything less. I'm not allowed to not... look perfect, basically. I'm not allowed to beg for gifts or allowances. The rule is actually to act like you could live without them, even if it's what's paying your rent. I'm not allowed to break things off. I'm not allowed to get jealous... actually, I'm not allowed to get upset at all."

"What? Why?" He looked baffled.

"Well, we're supposed to be perfect girlfriends. So no complaining, no whining, no crying, no getting mad, no getting jealous. None of that." I shook my head.

"It's not like people can control their emotions so strictly." Sherlock shook his head.

"We all have acting skills." I smiled. "The most we're allowed to do is just a cute pout, so a lot of us just work around that."

Sherlock just sighed. "Well, you're not worrying about any of that with me."

My lips parted in surprise as I stared. "You're not serious."

"I am." Sherlock nodded. "Blair, you can dress however you want. I don't care if you showed up to the flat in sweatpants and a jumper with no makeup. I don't care about perfection. You don't need to watch your emotions like that, that's absurd."

I stared into space, unsure of what to do with myself.

"How long have you been doing this?" He asked.

"Five years," I answered softly.

"Five years of living by those insane rules. Guess I don't blame you for being confused." Sherlock said and our food came. We both thanked him, and I lifted my fork and began to twirl the pasta, feeling a little like I was in a daze.

Sherlock began talking about something else, probably to distract me, and it sort of worked. I joined him in conversation as we ate, but the thought was still in the back of my mind.

It wasn't until we were done and leaving that I felt the urge to do something to let him know I was thankful for this... this freedom.

When we got in a cab to head to his flat, I moved over and hugged his arm. Sherlock looked down at me, and he put his other hand over one of mine.

I was going to let go when we got to Baker Street, but Sherlock just joined our hands, linking us that way as we got in and went up.

I wondered for a moment if I had caught him off guard, but decided that didn't matter right now.

"Took you two long enough," John said from his chair with a book and a mug of tea.

"Stopped for lunch," Sherlock said and sat in his chair. "Blair, some tea, please?"

"Sure thing." I nodded and kicked off my booties before I walked into the kitchen to start on some tea.

Five minutes later, I had two mugs ready and brought Sherlock his before I sat in the chair at the table desk thing.

"So the girls were being sexually assaulted," John said.

"Maybe. Maybe not. There's no way of knowing if there was given consent or not." Sherlock hummed.

"True, but knives? Needles?" John said in disbelief.

"More common than you think." I hummed and sipped my tea. "Quite common, actually."

"And how are you so knowledgeable about this?" John stared at me. "You don't sleep with anyone."

"I hear the stories, see the pictures, watch the videos..." I hummed. "You become numb to it all after a while."

John just looked stunned while Sherlock had a tiny smile on while he drank his tea. John looked from me to Sherlock and narrowed his eyes.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He asked.

"Quite a bit, yes." Sherlock chuckled. "John, you must realize that anything you can think up, anything, there is someone somewhere getting off to it."

That got me thinking as I drank some tea. When was the last time I got off? I didn't really consider myself a sexual person, I more or less just mentally shrugged at the idea of me having sex. I masturbated, though, which sometimes had no results, which I blame on my religious upbringing. I'll start thinking about how I'll go to hell halfway through, and everything is ruined.

But sometimes I'm motivated or turned on enough to get through it and relax after, which was the intended purpose. I just wanted to relax, really.

I then thought about if that would distract me from manipulating Sherlock, or encourage me?


	7. Overdose and dying

I decided to do a little experiment.

When I got home, I dug out a vibrating dildo I haven't used in forever and checked the batteries in it. I tested that it ran fine, and got to work.

This might fuck me up a little.

I prepared myself, working on keeping my mind blank. When I felt ready, I pushed the dildo into me and kept it turned off for a minute or so, before I turned it onto the lowest setting. And fuck, I forgot that even the lowest setting was a bit intense.

I gasped out loud, and turned my head and bit into a pillow. I forced myself to think of Sherlock, fixating my thoughts on his hair, his eyes, his lips, the way he spoke and smiled and chuckled, how he carried himself.

I pulled the dildo out to press against my clit, and my thighs shook and tried to close. I wanted to pull the vibration away as it got intense as hell but forced my other hand down to make me hold it in place, making myself come as I screamed into the pillow and finally fell back in exhaustion. I turned the dial off and set it aside to wash later, and just lied there, trying to breathe, hoping my neighbors didn't hear me.

I let my eyes fall closed as I rested, and sure enough, those powder blue irises were burned into my retinas.

Now I had something to work with.

The next morning when he called me over, I planned my moves carefully while in the cab ride over. I went over telltale signs in my head, but I'd have to try to not be obvious about checking out his eyes or his breathing.

I paid the cabbie and got out, then walked in and gave a smile to Sherlock in his chair, seemingly in his pajamas.

"John's gone to work?" I asked as I set my bag down and hung my jacket up. Sherlock nodded, and I saw he didn't have a drink.

"Want some tea?" I asked, and he gave me a small smile.

"Are you a mind reader, or am I becoming predictable?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," I simply nodded as I stepped into the kitchen. I let the water get a little hotter than I usually did, and brought him his mug while I gave myself only about half a mug.

"Any new ideas?" I asked, and Sherlock just hummed and shook his head. "What do you want to do today?"

"I'm feeling rather lazy today... I should've told you to come in your sleepwear." He said, and I gave a little laugh.

"Why? So we could cuddle up together and watch shit TV?" I asked.

"Why not?" Sherlock shrugged, and I kept the smile on my face. He was staying one step ahead of me. That's alright. I like to think I'm clever.

"Let me borrow your clothes, then," I said, and Sherlock looked up at me. "Well, I'm not going all the way back to my place."

He hummed and stood up, waving me along. I followed him into a bedroom where he went to a drawer and pulled out a matching plain white T-shirt, and a different set of flannel pants.

He closed the door when he left, and I started to get undressed. I took my jewelry off, I even took my bra off. I looked in his mirror and let my hair down from its tight bun, letting brown waves hang around my shoulders.

I folded my shit and left it on his bed, my shoes on the floor, and walked back to the main room, putting my jewelry and bobby pins in my bag. I was going to sit back down, but Sherlock held his arm out to me.

He already had the TV on, and I stepped over and curled up on his lap, feeling safe when his arm came around me to keep me in place. Sherlock kept sipping his tea occasionally, and I found I was very comfortable curled up with him.

I let my head rest on his shoulder as we watched some crime show. Sherlock tried to solve the cases before the show revealed who it was, and he was right pretty much every time.

We ended up getting Chinese takeout, which we had to get up to pay the delivery person and get the food, and Sherlock still worked on the TV cases through lunch.

After lunch, though, I was feeling sleepy. I was full of hot food and tea, I was dressed comfortably, and just relaxing with Sherlock was very comfortable as well.

I let my head come to his shoulder and tried to keep my eyes open, but it was hard to. After a few minutes, I felt Sherlock's hand shift and come in front of my face.

I hummed and opened my eyes, but Sherlock just shushed me, putting my head back on his shoulder. I took that as a sign of him telling me to sleep, so I let my eyes closed and I drifted off.

When I stirred awake again, Sherlock was also passed out. I wanted to check the time, but instead just turned my head and looked at the windows and saw it was just starting to get dark out. So it was six or seven or so.

I took a breath and lied my head back down, not ready to get up yet. Sherlock wasn't long after me, and he woke up with a groan.

It was a pretty hot groan, actually.

"You two finally awake?" John asked from the kitchen, and Sherlock just grunted, still holding me in place.

"Mrs. Hudson took pictures. She says she's making them this year's Christmas card." John sounded amused.

"Can't wait," Sherlock mumbled, and I chuckled through my nose. He patted my hip, and I got up, let him stand, and he looked at me, gave a small smile, and walked off to the bathroom.

I sat back down, cracking my neck and back and tried to work myself awake. Sherlock came back, and I gave him a sleepy smile.

"Dinner?" He asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Sure." I smiled a little wider.


	8. On our drugs

We ended up ordering takeout again, though this time it was from a bakery/cafe. Sherlock had some sort of pasta while I had a Caesar salad, which I was very happy with because they didn't skimp on the dressing.

We offered to get food for John too, but he said he already ate and was just giving us confused looks.

"Sorry, when did she start wearing your clothes, Sherlock?" He asked, and I looked down at the green and navy flannel pants I wore in contrast to Sherlock's, which were just different shades of blue.

"I'm only borrowing." I defended.

John opened his mouth, then closed it again with a sigh. He said he was going to bed, then left.

Sherlock moved a little closer to my side. "He's jealous." He hummed and I peeked over as I stabbed some chicken and a bit of lettuce.

"Yeah, why's that?" I asked.

"Probably because he doesn't have a pretty girl to wear his clothes." Sherlock hummed, and I gave a small laugh.

"Is that you admitting you find me pretty?" I asked and Sherlock hummed for a second.

"I suppose."

"I may have to start stealing your clothes, then." I hummed with a little smile.

"How evil of you, Blair." Sherlock simply smiled.

I thanked him for dinner and changed back into my clothes, and got on my shoes and jacket and held my bag. I paused by the door before leaving and turned back around.

"Do you want me here tomorrow?" I asked and Sherlock looked up from his chair.

"Yes." He answered.

"Should I wear anything specific?" I smiled and got one in return.

"No."

"Are you sure about that?" I rose a brow.

"No." Sherlock smiled, then got up and came over to me. "I've told you before, Blair. Wear what you want. Chances are I'll want to be lazy tomorrow, too..."

"That's all I needed to know." I smiled up at him.

Sherlock sighed and gave a little chuckle. "Come in your pajamas."

"You want me to come over without pants on?" I teased and saw his smile grow.

"No, but you can take them off once you're in." He said, and I laughed. I might take him up on that. Not tomorrow, no, but someday.

I touched his cheek for a second before I walked downstairs and out the front door, hailing a cab to go back home.

I slept soundly and the next morning I arrived in a pair of joggers, a T-shirt, and some sneakers that I kicked off and left me in socks. I left my hair down, but my face was still made up. Maybe not as heavy, but still perfect.

I immediately went to the kitchen and started on some tea, and Sherlock actually joined my side for once.

"I never noticed how much shorter you are without heels." He hummed.

"I'm not short. I'm taller than average." I stated.

"By two inches, but that's it." He chuckled and I gave him a warning look. "What?"

"I will poison your tea," I said as I got the sugar down for my own.

"In front of me?" He asked.

"Let's be honest, you'd still drink it just to see what would happen," I said and Sherlock fell quiet.

"I don't like that you're right." He said as I stirred in the sugar, then put the sugar back in the cupboard.

"Ha," I teased and went off to get some ice and stirred them around before dropping them in.

I took my mug and got into the living room before he did, so I stole his chair, and took a sip as he raised his eyebrow at me.

"What?" I asked innocently.

Sherlock simply set his tea down, then lifted me up. I held on tightly in surprise, but relaxed when he sat down, putting me in his lap just like yesterday.

Sherlock talked me through some new ideas he had about the case as I sipped some tea, taking a little enjoyment with how he drummed his fingers on my waist softly as he spoke.

Sherlock paused for a moment when he was done, and just looked at me.

"You had another thought?" I guessed.

"Yes, but it doesn't pertain to the case." He said.

"Alright." I still would listen anyway.

"We sort of have assigned seats in the flat. Or, well, claimed seats." He started. "That is John's seat, this is my seat, and the couch and chairs are for clients and guests."

"Okay." I nodded for him to continue.

"I've decided that this is your seat." Sherlock then gave me a smile, and I laughed a little.

"So you like having me in your lap?" I hummed.

"I'll never admit it to anyone else, but yes." He said.

"My lips are sealed." I grinned. "I'm not too heavy?"

"Not at all." He shook his head a little.

We stayed like that for most of the day, which I found that I incredibly enjoyed. I was usually uncomfortable with being in close proximity to another human being, which is why I put boundaries on affection and why I didn't allow sex. But I was pretty comfortable here, and that scared me a little.

There was a knock, and Sherlock called that it was open.

"Do you want me to move?" I asked softly.

"No," Sherlock said back just as soft.

A tall man in a light gray suit walked in and raised his eyebrow as he simply walked over and took a seat in front of us.

"So, this is the girl who's pay is coming directly from the nation's government." He hummed, and I didn't let the surprise show on my face. "Why?"

"So there's no stressing over money." Sherlock hummed. "Blair, meet Mycroft, my brother. Mycroft, Blair."

I gave the man a smile, and he forced one in return.

"Pleasure to meet you. Doesn't answer my question, Sherlock." He said with a slightly harder tone.

"I think it does." Sherlock just said, his fingers drumming again.

"Sherlock, you can't demand money from the government to pay your... your harlot." Mycroft sputtered, and I kept my face blank at being called a harlot.

"I can, and I will. We wouldn't want Blair stressing because she can't pay her bills, would we? You know how expensive living is." Sherlock said, patting my knee, and I smiled a little.

"And well, if you don't, I hope you enjoy World War Three." Sherlock gave a wide smile to his brother.

Mycroft huffed and stood again. "Will you ever play fair?"

"Nope." Sherlock popped his lips, and Mycroft more or less stormed out.

I looked over at Sherlock with a little smile. "World War Three?"

"Mycroft is the British government, and part of the American government as well. We all know I'm clever enough to find out any information I wanted, or I could just make something up and sell it to whatever country of my choosing." Sherlock gave a shrug.

"Why?" I asked, amused.

"Because I hate him." Sherlock sighed, leaving me giggling.

"Can't say I blame you there," I said, and he gave me a cheeky little smirk.


	9. And our love

There was a party being hosted for the babies by the company who's platform pairs us up. I originally wasn't going to go, until Sherlock said I might learn something that would help him with the case.

So I left Baker Street early to get ready, as it did take hours usually.

After I showered and prepped and ate, I did my makeup perfectly and carefully put on the dress I picked out. It was a very light pastel pink, very short, kind of puffy, had sleeves that hung off my shoulders, and accentuated what small of a bust I had with the neckline. It had lace on it, and anybody who knows me knows I love lace.

My makeup was soft, rose gold with a nude lip, and once my hair was done, I got my phone and bag and left, locking up, then hailed a cab, going to the address, which was this five-star hotel's ballroom.

I got past the door since I was on the guest list, and took a moment to just look around. There was a bar, duh, and also a sort of buffet with finger foods, but what caught my attention was the huge ass chocolate fountain.

I pursed my lips, suddenly wishing I wore something darker and put on a long-lasting lipstick.

"Yeah, we're all thinking the same thing." A baby I recognized came over. Her name was Victoria, and she was in a skin-tight gold dress and her dark hair was perfectly curled where it hung over her shoulder.

"Do they know who we are?" I chuckled. "They know we can't eat messy things, right?"

"They know we can't eat, right?" Victoria joined in and we laughed a little. "I was about to go over there and brave it. Wanna join me?" She offered her arm.

"Sure. Oh my God, I've been craving strawberries for days." I groaned as I took her arm and we went over.

There were a couple of other babies standing by, and I studied the display of marshmallows of all sizes, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, banana slices, seedless orange slices, a couple of different types of cookies, and even other pieces of chocolate.

"Oranges with chocolate?" Victoria asked as she poked a few raspberries on a toothpick.

"No, no, no. Oranges and chocolate taste amazing together." I said as I lifted a strawberry. "You are missing out, trust me."

"Fine." She huffed after letting the excess chocolate drip off her raspberries, and she ate them, then tossed the toothpick and picked up another and stabbed an orange slice. I ate my strawberry, watching as she dipped the orange slice, let it drip, then she ate it.

I watched her face change, and I smiled.

"Okay, it's not horrible." She admitted, now going for a marshmallow.

"Told you," I said in a sing-song voice.

After we talked a little, Victoria dragged me over to the bar to get drinks, and we snagged some seats on a couch together. We talked and laughed for a good long while, and then things just had to go wrong.

Someone screamed "GET DOWN!" over the music, and a lot of people looked over in confusion, and then a gunshot rang out. We all instinctively ducked, and then there were a few screams.

"Has someone been shot?" Victoria stood up.

I was too busy getting my phone out and typing out a message to Sherlock. Tons of girls were already calling the police, while I simply gave the address and told him a baby's been shot. He sent a message back, saying he'd be over in five.

The hotel managers had us get out of the ballroom and into the lobby, telling us the police would probably want to question us.

Lestrade and that fucking Donavan got here before Sherlock did, and a bunch of cops and a forensic team were coming in and out.

I saw the black coat and mop of curly dark hair and stood from my spot and went over.

"Blair. Hey. Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, hugging me, and I nodded against his chest as I hugged him back. He soon let me go just a little and leaned down to search my eyes, then he raised my hand and checked my pulse.

"At least you're not in shock. What happened?" He kept his arm around my shoulders as we walked over to Lestrade.

"I wasn't near her... but uh, someone screamed 'get down,' then there was a gunshot, and then everyone just started screaming," I said and he rubbed my arm a little.

"You think it was a hit, like with the other girls?" Lestrade asked Sherlock.

"Let's call it a very high chance," Sherlock said and nodded to the ballroom.

"Uh, Sherlock. Do you really think Blair should go back in there?" John asked, and Sherlock looked at me.

"I'll be fine. Thanks, John." I gave him a little smile for at least worrying about me.

We went in, Sherlock keeping a grip on me as we got closer to the body. I was doing fine, really, but the blank look in her still open eyes was sort of creeping me out.

Sherlock let me go to inspect the body, and John stood by me. "You're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just..." I hummed. "You know that feeling when you're watching a horror movie and the music goes quiet and the screen goes all still and you just know there's a jumpscare coming?" I asked.

"Yeah." John nodded.

"That." I nodded and he hummed in understanding.

"I'm going to go over and see if I can steal some of those tiny sandwiches. You want something?" John asked, and I smiled.

"Nah. I ate so much from the chocolate fountain, you have no idea." I shook my head. John chuckled and walked off, and I turned my attention back to Sherlock.

"We should gather the girls that were near her. Where are they?" He asked as he stood back up.

"A lot of them are in shock, so they're with the cops outside," Lestrade said.

Sherlock came over and spoke lowly to me. "You stay here with John, I'll be right back. Don't look at Anderson, and don't even think about paying attention to Donavan."

"Yes, sir." I chuckled.

"Good girl." Sherlock gave me a little smile before walking off, and I sat down on a couch and just waited.


	10. And our dreams

Once Sherlock was done questioning the girls, he came back, and John was standing by me, as he'd taken all the little finger sandwiches he could.

"I've gotten about all I could out of them. There's nothing really left for us here." He said, so I stood up and grabbed my bag.

We got in a cab together, going to Baker Street, and once I was in the cab, I fell quiet as I realized I didn't really feel like going home and being alone.

Once we got to 221B, Sherlock headed to his room, calling me to follow him. I set my bag down on a table in his room as I watched him take out a T-shirt and the same flannel pants he gave me to wear all that time ago.

Sherlock then came close and spoke softly again. "I'm not entirely comfortable with sending you home alone, and even not with you being at home alone. So, I'd like you to stay for tonight if you wouldn't mind."

I smiled a little as I took the clothes. "I didn't really feel like going to an empty flat either."

Sherlock stroked my cheek for a second before he left the room, closing the door, and I began to change. I left my clothes in my bag and kept my shoes on the floor. I took my pills that I kept in my bag, and a makeup remover wipe from the travel sized pack I kept in there. I went to the bathroom and began removing my makeup, being a little self-conscious because this would be the first time they've seen me with a bare face. I normally didn't let anyone see me bare-faced.

I tossed away the wipe and cleaned my face with some warm water, then dried off and went out to the living room, and saw Sherlock with two mugs of tea.

I smiled and took the one he offered me, and he did a pretty good job of it.

"You're staying, then?" John asked.

"You really think I would just let her go off alone?" Sherlock asked, and I smiled into my mug.

"Ah, suppose not." John hummed. "Have you worked out where she's sleeping, then?"

"Oh, I'm fine on the couch," I spoke up.

"Really?" Sherlock gave me a look like he didn't believe me.

"Yeah, really." I insisted.

So after some tea, I got a pillow and a blanket, and the two went off to their rooms after we all bid each other goodnight. I set up on the couch, and as I was so tired, I dozed off almost immediately.

A creak woke me up however many hours later. I opened my eyes and saw it was still dark. I tried to close my eyes and go back to sleep, but suddenly all the shadows started looking like people, and I was reminded of how alone I was right here.

I tried to wipe the thoughts from my mind, but it is very hard to do that. I gave up as there was another little creak, and stood up, feeling the walls as I made my way to Sherlock's room.

I hesitated to knock until I heard him say it was open from inside. So I felt for the handle and stepped in, and he turned a lamp on to give us some light. I didn't need to say a word, and he lifted up his covers for me to get under, so I did so.

"Thought you said you were fine on the couch?" He hummed.

"Yeah, well, turns out I lied." I huffed. Sherlock turned off the light and moved a little closer, his arm coming around me, making me warmer.

"You're safe, Blair. You're safe here." He said, and I tried to close my eyes to sleep again.

It was a little easier, as I was surrounded by Sherlock's scent and his body. I curled up a little, making myself small, and made myself focus on his breathing, which lulled me to sleep.

It was day when I opened my eyes again, and I flinched and squeezed them shut. I breathed in deep, letting that smell of laundry detergent and clean cotton fill my senses.

Sherlock was still beside me, still had an arm around me. I let my eyes slowly open and saw his face close to mine, his eyes still closed. After a moment, his eyes opened, and I don't think I've ever seen such a beautiful blue.

I then noticed something else. Pupils contract in light, so why were his dilating?

Have I caught him off guard?

I decided to test it a little further.

"Thanks." I murmured.

"For what?" He asked softly in that deep, hoarse morning voice.

"For... everything," I said and moved forward to hug him tight, pushing my face into his chest.

His heartbeat got stronger as I got close, and got even stronger when his arms tightened around me a little.

Got him.

I didn't say anything though, as I was enjoying this a bit myself. I relaxed a little, still holding him, and he didn't seem to mind at all. I pictured us with our legs tangled together, just lying under blankets, being warm and comfortable in the peace and quiet.

My thoughts did end up drifting a little, just imagining Sherlock slipping his hand into the front of the pants I wore, and letting him feel around and do as he liked.

That surprised me. I never slept with any Daddy or Mommy. I just didn't want to, and that included touching. Some have tried in the past, just to feel me up a little, and I always threatened them with the knuckle dusters and the switchblade in my bag.

But now? I just couldn't get it out of my head, how my hips would roll against his hand, how he'd softly shush me when my moans got a little too loud. Was he the type to lick come off of his fingers, or no?

"I take it you're comfy?" Sherlock asked, and I just hummed. "Your breathing's slowing down."

I just hummed again and shifted slightly. "Fight me."

Sherlock chuckled and traced my hair a little. "It's alright. I have no plans to leave either." He said, and I swore I felt him kiss my hair before I fell back asleep.


	11. And our rage

Some days later, my bills came in, and I read through them and marked on the envelope of when I had to pay them by.

Sherlock invited me over, duh, and when I came in, I set my bag down and took the bills out and set them on the desk before I went to start on tea.

"No need, Blair." Sherlock hummed from his chair, and I turned to look at him and noticed he was dressed. "We're going out."

"Okay." I smiled and picked up my bag again as he got a jacket. I found it funny how now I was used to wearing jeans and regular shirts with sneakers, but I still carried around a Chanel purse.

Sherlock took my hand as we left and got us a cab, giving an address.

"Where are we going?" I smiled as he kept his hand in mine on my lap.

"It's a surprise." He just smiled.

When we arrived, I saw it was a fancy-ass restaurant in central London known for brunch and expensive dinners. I've only been here once before, while I know other babies who come every week.

"You should've told me... I would've dressed better..." I said.

"Nonsense." Sherlock just shook his head as we went in. "No one cares what you look like as long as you have enough money." He hummed in my ear before getting us a table for two.

"Ever been here before?" He asked.

"Once," I nodded as I sat down. "Years ago. I don't even remember, really."

"Mycroft's a fan. He always tries to arrange dinners here for our parents when they visit." Sherlock hummed, and I smiled at him.

A waiter came over with orange juice in a tall glass with a stem and left us again. I looked through the menu, trying to find something that sounded good and also wasn't messy. Thank fuck I was wearing a long lasting lipstick today.

We ordered food and I looked at Sherlock with my brows raised a little. "So, is there a reason you brought me here, or...?"

"I haven't taken you out in a while, I thought it was about time." Sherlock hummed. "I actually haven't really been holding up my end here. I haven't gotten you any gifts, it's not like I've been paying you properly..." He sighed.

"I don't mind." I shook my head with a little shrug.

"All I've done is drag you to Scotland Yard and crime scenes..." He kept going.

"Sherlock," I said and his eyes met mine as he finally shut up. "I really don't mind."

"Well, I feel guilty, so I'm fixing it." He insisted, and I smiled and took a deep breath.

"Alright. What are you going to do, then? And don't say it's a surprise." I gave him a little look.

"Fine. I won't say that." He said, making me smile again. "You're not allowed to know."

"Goddammit, Sherlock." I sighed as he laughed a little.

"And John doesn't think I'm funny." He sighed with a smile.

"You're not funny," I said and sipped some orange juice. Sherlock gave me a little look, and I stuck my tongue out at him for a second.

I couldn't help but think about how this sort of behavior would never be tolerated with any other Daddy or Mommy. I'd be called a brat, or childish, or just plain rude. I even got nervous back at the hotel where that baby was killed because Sherlock and I would be in sight of dozens of other babies. If they saw how I acted with him compared to how I'm supposed to act like a baby, I'd probably be called a disgrace.

Shit, if a baby who knew me were to walk in this very second, I'd be called a disgrace.

Sherlock told me stories of cases he's worked to keep me entertained as we ate, keeping me smiling, and I asked questions and gave comments that kept him amused.

He paid and hooked his arm around me when we left, slipping into a cab.

"I asked John what sort of things make good gifts. He said shoes, makeup, jewelry, all that. But that just seemed too simple. So I've arranged something." He said.

"I'm scared," I admitted, and he gave me a little look.

We stopped outside of an outdoor mall, and Sherlock led me in and to a teashop. I gave him a little look, and he stroked my waist a little.

"Anything you want, Blair." He hummed.

"We might be here a while," I warned.

"That's fine," Sherlock said and patted my back. "Off you go."

I went off, taking the time to read each description of the teas they had set out. I also kept my eye on the sets on the walls. I tasted some here and there, keeping some names in mind.

Then I saw a glass tea set and went over to get a better look. The pot was completely glass, the saucers glass, and the teacups were glass but had a silver rim at the mouth. The sugar bowl and jug for milk were also glass with some silver rims.

Sherlock's smooth hand met my back, and I gave a small hum.

"You like that set?" He asked me and I nodded.

"I have some flowering tea that would look so pretty with it, as it's clear and all..." I hummed.

"Did you find any tea you liked?" He asked.

"Yeah. I'm making you try some, too, because you honestly need some diversity in your tea, Sherlock." I grinned up at him.

"Oh, do I?" He asked and I nodded. "Alright. Show me."

He let me drag him around and he tasted some, remembering names of what he liked for me. We soon went to the counter, and he gave names of the teas he chose and chose how many ounces. I got a couple of my own bags, then Sherlock mentioned the glass tea set.

So they carefully wrapped the set and bagged it separately from the tea, and Sherlock paid. I took the bag of tea, and Sherlock got the tea set.

"I don't trust my balance that much," I told him as we were leaving.

"But you trust mine?" He smiled at me.

"Yes," I nodded firmly and he smiled just a bit wider.


	12. Blurring the lines

When we got back to Baker Street, I separated what tea was mine, and what was his. I asked which one he liked the most, and he gave me a name, and I plucked the bag up.

"You're making tea now?" He asked, sounding a little amused.

"I doubt anyone in that store can make tea as well as I can." I grinned confidently, setting a kettle on the stove to boil water.

"Are you not using your new set?" Sherlock joined me in the kitchen.

"No way. That's for impressing people." I said.

"Oh, are you not trying to impress me anymore?" Sherlock smirked.

"If you want me to, you'll have to come to my flat one day." I smiled softly. "I'll break out the meringue and everything."

He chuckled a little. "Sounds good."

I still didn't want to mention that I had most definitely caught him off guard. I was keeping him off guard at this point. I was a little scared that if I mentioned it, he'd revert back and not act as he now did with me.

I made us some tea, still sweetened mine, and handed him his mug. He took a sip and sighed.

"How do you do that?" He asked.

"I told you. Look for the color, because the brew times are bullshit." I chuckled.

Sherlock took my free hand and lead me to his seat, and my own seat. He then asked how I got into tea, and I furrowed my brows.

"I don't even remember... no, wait, yes I do," I said and took a drink. "Okay, so my mom is a caffeine addict, she drinks the most coffee out of everyone I know. She told me when I was a kid that if I didn't like coffee, she'd probably disown me." I said, and Sherlock laughed in surprise.

"Yeah, wrong thing to tell a kid. So I spent however many years drinking coffee that was mostly sugar, just a little creamer. Coffee is just way too bitter for me, I have a sweet tooth." I shrugged and took another sip.

"I'm going to say it started when I was like... ten? Maybe nine. Somewhere around there. My mom and I had this vacation spot we loved in this super old hotel. It was rumored to be haunted, it had a pool hall, an indoor pool, and it's own restaurant. We fucking loved it there." I smiled into my mug as I remembered.

"The restaurant was kinda fancy. Well, fancy for kid me. You know, white tablecloths, candles, servers in suits, the lot." I said and Sherlock nodded. "I ordered tea just about every time we went, and I loved it because they would bring a full ceramic tea set, not just a cup and saucer. They'd leave it at the table, and my mom showed me how to do it properly the first couple of times, but I got it soon enough. And I just sort of thought, 'why can't I always do this? Why do I only do this on vacations?' So when we went back home, I stopped all that coffee bullshit and drank so much tea." I chuckled.

"I got tired of Earl Grey and Orange Pekoe, so mom introduced me to Oolong and Jasmine, and it kind of just exploded from there." I smiled and took another sip before I looked back to Sherlock.

"Now I collect tea. Ta-da." I smiled wider and he shook his head slowly at me.

"She said she'd disown you if you didn't like coffee." He sighed before taking a drink, and I laughed a little in his lap. "Are you disowned?"

"No, she said tea was fine." I shook my head a little, and reached over and set my mug down on the table next to my phone, then leaned back against Sherlock.

"Thanks." I hummed and he stroked my waist a little.

"You don't need to thank me, Blair." He set down his own mug, holding me a little tighter with both arms around me.

"I feel bad if I don't say thank you." I frowned.

"At least you know how to use your manners." Sherlock hummed.

"Yeah, so let me use them." I smiled a little up at him. Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning his head to me to say something, then he paused, and both of us seemed to notice at the same time how close our faces were.

I kept my eyes on those intriguing blue irises, watching his pupils grow a bit. I waited patiently for... fucking anything.

Sherlock moved just a little closer, eyes on my lips, then they flicked back up to mine, checking if I was okay with it. I smiled a little before I closed my eyes and closed the distance, kissing him gently. I felt his lips push back against mine, and I pulled back only a few seconds later to see if he was okay with it.

One of Sherlock's hands left my side and came up to hold the back of my head. My face broke into a smile again before he brought us back together, kissing me with a touch more eagerness.

His lips tasted like tea, and Gods was he soft. I was tempted to get a taste of his tongue, but I didn't want to push anything and ruin this.

I wondered if he minded my lipstick. It didn't taste like anything, I would know since I was wearing it, and it wouldn't transfer I was pretty sure, as not a speck had appeared on anything I had met with my lips today (the orange juice glass, my fork, all the taste test cups, my mug).

Sherlock began to pull away after a minute, and he pecked my lips the last time before looking at me. He was breathing slightly harder, and I didn't even bother hiding it as I felt the left side of his neck with my fingers, finding his pulse beating pretty fast.

"You caught me." He sighed softly, still staring at me.

"Yeah, I'd say I did." I smiled proudly and kissed him softly once more before I relaxed against him, and felt him relax under me.


	13. Between real and the fake

I was pretty happy.

Sherlock kissed me hello and goodbye every day, he was pretty comfortable touching me as well. I especially liked when I was making tea, he'd wrap his arms around my waist and put his head on my shoulder and watch me. I also liked it when he wrapped his arms around my neck and had his chin on my head at crime scenes as he spoke, but that was mostly because I took great amusement in everyone's confused looks at the two of us.

Sherlock sent me a text this morning simply saying, 'Impress me. I'll be over at 10.'

I smiled and got dressed in a cute lacy but still a bit casual dress, and some heels, and did my makeup and hair. I set the kettle to boil water, and set up the glass tea set on a white tray, and cleaned up in my living room a little before I got a decorative stand and put little meringues and macaroons on it and brought it out onto the coffee table.

My flat had almost the same aesthetic I did. It was pretty light colored, and I kept it very clean and open. I had my tea collection sorted out in the open in my kitchen, and my bookcases in the living room were nothing to scoff at either.

When I heard the water bubbling, I turned off the stove and chose a tea and let it brew. I checked the time and kept checking on the color of the tea. It was a herbal tea, a sort of berry blend. It was actually quite complex and confusing. Its perfect color was this dark pink color, but I swear to God it tasted exactly like a blueberry muffin.

Once it was ready, I placed the strainer over the glass teapot and poured the tea in, smiling as I already had the sugar and milk ready, silver teaspoons placed just so on the saucers.

I put the lid back on the glass pot and carried the tray to the coffee table, and with perfect timing, my doorbell rang. I smiled and brushed my dress off (as if there was anything on it) and opened up to Sherlock.

"Hi," I smiled happily and stepped aside to let him in.

"Hi..." He said slowly, gazing around. "You've impressed me already." He looked back at me, and I was proud of myself.

Sherlock shed his jacket, and I went to hang it up for him, and when I turned back, he caught my chin in his fingers and kissed me sweetly, making my stomach flutter.

When we parted, I lead him to my couch and coffee table, and he chuckled lightly at the display.

"Are you laughing at me?" I smiled a little as I poured us each a cup, sweetening mine.

"You're just... cute." He said and looked at the pink tea. "What is this?"

"Guess." I grinned as I took a sip.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but took a sip, and I watched as his brows pinched together, and he looked confused.

"I want to say blueberry..." He said slowly. "But it's pink."

"I mean, you're on the right track." I chuckled, setting my own cup down and plucking a meringue up. "It's a berry blend herbal tea. Blueberries, strawberries, raspberries... but it tastes like a blueberry muffin, doesn't it?"

Sherlock nodded slowly, still confused. "It's one of my favorites. Right up there with Irish tea." I smiled and popped the meringue in my mouth.

"So, how impressed are you?" I asked, a little excited.

"Quite." Sherlock nodded.

"Yay." I beamed happily.

Sherlock set his cup down and raised my chin up, making me look at him. "You'd work so hard to impress me?"

"If you haven't noticed by now, and I have no idea how you couldn't notice, I kind of crave attention and validation." I smiled softly.

Sherlock closed his eyes briefly, looking like he was trying not to laugh. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then my nose, and finally my lips.

"Well, aren't you lucky to have my attention all day every day." He hummed.

"I honestly am." I nodded a little as I gazed up at him. Shit, I could practically feel my eyes shining.

We spent hours on the couch curled up together, sometimes talking about whatever was on our minds, sometimes watching whatever was on TV. Sherlock got in the habit of tracing patterns on my skin as we watched TV, even as he solved cases on crime shows, which amused me to no end.

When all the tea was gone, I went to clean up, and he popped off to the bathroom while I did so. I heard him go to his jacket before he joined me in the kitchen, kissing my cheek and making me smile.

He left, promising to see me tomorrow when I came out, and gave me a long kiss, longer than most of our kisses. I didn't mind in the slightest.

The butterflies were still in my stomach when he was gone and I was getting ready for bed. I bit my lip and decided to something about it, and slipped my trusty vibrating dildo out of it's hiding place.

At least I thought it was trusty. As I was getting into it, I found myself wanting the real thing, no vibration. So I turned the vibration off and tried imagining again as I slid it in and out of me, but it just wasn't doing anything. I knew the difference between jelly and skin.

I fell back in frustration and decided maybe I should just force myself to orgasm, so I tried that, but soon found that I just couldn't.

So I officially hated myself.


	14. Dark and lonely

I kept my grumpiness from everyone for about a week, until it got a touch noticeable.

John asked if I was alright, I looked a bit tired. I said I was fine, just having a little trouble sleeping is all.

Sherlock looked slightly suspicious, I caught, but didn't question me.

Until one morning when he told me to come over in comfy clothes, today was a lazy day. So I smiled and headed over in joggers, a T-shirt, my hair in a ponytail, minimal makeup on. I've been growing a bit more comfortable with him seeing me without perfect makeup on all the time.

I stepped in and saw John was still there, and Sherlock just dragged me off to his room and closed the door. I raised my eyebrow as he turned to me.

"I'm going to make an offer, and hit me if you want, just wait until I'm done, okay?" He said, and I was very confused and quite unsure of what to say.

"Good. Now, I know it isn't exactly in our arrangement, but as I worry about you, and that includes your health and mood, I can help you, if you want." He said.

I had an idea of what he was proposing but didn't want to make any assumptions.

"Can you be a little more specific?" I asked with a tilted head.

Sherlock sighed and held up my right hand. "Most mornings you've come in with wrinkly fingers, but not all of them wrinkled. Only ever two." He said and lowered my ring and pinky finger, leaving my first two up. "No wrinkles on your left hand, either. I could stop there, but why not go on. I know how the human body, I know how female anatomy works. And with a brain like mine, you'd have to be an idiot to think I wouldn't notice."

I could feel my heated blush but refused to say anything.

"I'm offering to get you off, Blair." He said. "Now you can hit me if you'd like."

"I'm not going to hit you." I shook my head as I said in a small voice. I thought for a moment, remembering how I told myself I'd never sleep with a Daddy or Mommy, but fuck, I've never had a relationship like the one Sherlock and I had. I seriously considered my rule with him.

"Okay," I said, and he kissed my head quickly before turning away. I was confused until I saw him digging in his sock drawer.

"Look familiar?" He asked and pulled out a hot pink egg and bullet vibrator, and my eyes widened drastically. "I may have stolen it from your bathroom when I was over."

"What the hell, Sherlock?" I groaned.

"The cabinet was left open a bit." He just shrugged, then tossed it on the bed. "You still want to?" He tugged me a bit towards him by my hips, and I was already feeling tingles all over my skin.

I nodded and tilted my head up and kissed him, kicking off my shoes off behind me. Sherlock broke the kiss for a moment to slip my shirt off, then brought us back together and slipped his tongue through my lips, drawing a soft moan from me.

He slid my joggers over my ass, feeling it as he went, and lied me down, pulling back as he pulled them down my legs.

"Are you really gonna use that?" I bit my lip as I looked at the vibrator, moaning softly as Sherlock rubbed me above my underwear.

"Yes. Why?" He asked.

"Well..." I started nervously. "I'm usually good at keeping quiet, but I'm a bit of a screamer when it comes to vibrators."

Sherlock leaned over and kissed me, slipping my panties down and off me, then he pulled back again. "I don't care."

"John is right down the hall!" I hissed. "Mrs. Hudson is still here!"

"I really don't care." Sherlock just shrugged before he licked his fingers and touched me again. I bit my lip and moaned at how it felt, finally having him touching me, seeing me, wanting me.

I undid my bra, and as he began to finger me, he dropped his head down to suck at my nipples a bit, making me gasp and move my hips against his hand.

"Wanna get this wet for me?" He held the bullet part of the vibrator up to my lips, and I took it into my mouth, moaning a bit as I got it wet, and he pulled it from my lips and removed his fingers, and slipped it in me.

Sherlock moved me a bit farther up the bed and moved himself to sit on my legs, probably because we both knew I would be moving a lot. He licked the egg part before pressing it to my clit and put his thumb to the dial.

"Ready?" He asked, and I gave a little nod, and he leaned down to kiss me before he turned it on low.

I tensed a little, my jaw dropping wide open as the vibrations ran through me. My legs were already shaking, as vibrators made a mess out of me. I tried to bite my lip to shut me up, but Sherlock pressing the egg against me wasn't helping me at all.

I moaned a bit louder than I would've liked, and put a hand over my mouth. My other hand was too busy gripping his shirt.

"What's that? You want more?" Sherlock hummed, and his thumb flicked the dial again. I convulsed again under him, gasping very loudly, my moans now frequent and quite loud. Sherlock's free hand just traveled to my chest to tweak my nipples and feel around a bit, him giving me no mercy at all.

I squeezed my eyes shut and swore behind my hand. I think maybe his name slipped out a couple of times, it was really hard to think.

"You look awfully close, love. Shall we up it again?" He asked and I shook my head. "I think we should."

I let my hand leave my mouth to protest, but the vibrations came hard and fast. I screamed and tried to close my thighs, but Sherlock held them open. He was pressing the egg hard against my clit, and I didn't even realize it when I had come.

But when I fell back in a puddle of bliss, Sherlock turned the vibrator off and pulled it away from me.

"You did so well, love." He murmured and gently kissed me. "Stay put, I'll be back in a second."

I wanted to protest him leaving, but didn't have the energy to. I heard him step out and go to the bathroom, where I heard water running. Sherlock walked back in, and something warm met my inner thighs.

I looked over and saw he just had a washcloth and was cleaning me up. I smiled softly at how sweet he was. Earlier, when he was giving me no mercy, I thought him a sadist. Now, I'd let him do as he liked as long as he was sweet to me after.

He researched aftercare. That's adorable.

When Sherlock was done, he went to get rid of the washcloth, then came back and closed the door again. He lied beside me, taking me in his arms, and I smiled as I curled up and clung to him.

"When you get your energy back, what do you want to eat?" He asked and I just shrugged, perfectly content here with this.


	15. I need somebody to hold me

John scolded us when he got back from work that evening. I blushed through it, but Sherlock smirked proudly.

"It won't happen again." I tried.

"It'll definitely happen again." Sherlock nodded, and I just pressed my lips tight together and looked away.

"At least keep it down?" John sighed.

"Nope." Sherlock sounded amused.

"How about when no one else is in?" John said, and Sherlock gave him a look. John soon groaned and just walked away.

"I can't wait for the holidays." Sherlock sighed, and I had to urge to smack him upside his head.

"No," I said sternly instead, and Sherlock gave me a surprised look. I stretched up and put my arms around his neck, bringing us face to face so he understood me perfectly and knew I was serious.

"Try that embarrassing shit with me again, I swear I will kill you," I said, then gave him a smile. "Got it?"

"Yeah." Sherlock nodded, looking a bit stunned, and I pecked his lips before lowering back down again.

So he didn't try it again.

Sherlock kept the bullet and egg in his room, which I didn't really mind. Sometime later, he asked if I had any other toys. I told him about my vibrating dildo, and he immediately asked if I could bring it over with me.

I said no if he wanted to use it on me, it would be at my place because I lived alone. Sherlock agreed to that, then asked if it would be alright if he bought me some toys. I said sure, but nothing used to hit people. I wasn't really a fan of being hit.

Also, I thought later about how he made sure to ask my permission, he didn't just spring it on me randomly.

On the day he was coming over, I didn't bother with clothes. I stayed in the shirt and panties I slept in, and Sherlock smiled the second he saw me.

"So cute." He shook his head as I closed and locked the front door, and he shrugged off his jacket and followed me to my bedroom. He took his phone out of his pocket, with a pair of silver handcuffs.

I raised my brow and he gave a little shrug as he set his phone aside on my nightstand. "I don't want you trying to cover your mouth."

I laughed a little, and got the dildo out from my nightstand drawer, tossing it onto the bed.

Sherlock inspected it for a moment, running his thumb over the clit stimuli at the base where the balls would be before he set it aside and reached for me.

"Thought I would go easy on you first." He said as I took his hand, letting him pull me close.

"What's your definition of easy?" I asked, and Sherlock just gave me a little smile.

"Do you not trust me?" He asked.

"I do. I just want to be prepared." I said.

"You've nothing to worry about, Blair. I'll take good care of you." He promised before kissing me slowly, his hands slipping under my shirt and he traced my skin slowly, relaxing me.

I let my hands undo a button on his shirt, and Sherlock didn't try to stop me, so I kept going. Once I pushed his shirt off his shoulders, he pulled back to get my shirt off me, his hands coming to my chest to get me a little aroused.

Sherlock met my lips again, but only for a moment before he began to kiss my neck, and he kept going down. He slid my panties down, then sat me on the bed, and he knelt and parted my thighs as he got lower and lower.

I took a sharp breath in as he kissed, nipped, and licked over my inner thighs, and he gave me a little look before he licked over my slit.

I gave a small moan, and my fingers met my lips. Sherlock reached up and removed my hand from my mouth.

"We wouldn't want to use the cuffs so soon, would we?" He hummed against my skin, and I shook my head. "Hands either on the bed or on me." He more or less ordered before he licked over me a little harder, making me gasp out.

I got tired of clawing the sheets as he was working his mouth on me and soon brought my hands to those soft curls. God, I was going to fuck up his hair so good.

I tugged when he sucked on my clit and ran my fingers through, dragging my nails across his scalp when he licked over my entrance, sometimes digging his tongue in.

"Think you're properly wet now?" He hummed, pulling back, and I nodded with a soft moan.

"Hands behind your back, love." He stood, grabbing the cuffs, and I turned and did as he said. Sherlock cuffed me and ran his thumbs over my wrists.

"Not too tight?" He asked and I tried turning my wrist and I had some wiggle room.

"I'm good," I said and he moved me up my bed, grabbing the dildo.

"Mind wetting this?" Sherlock held the dildo to my lips. I gave him an amused look before I opened my mouth, and he slid it in. I worked to get it wet, keeping my eyes on Sherlock, who was breathing harder, looking awed at me.

He soon collected himself and pulled the dildo from my lips. I bit my lip and tried to relax, knowing that the easy bit was over. He wouldn't be showing me mercy for a while now.

I felt him press the blunt tip against my entrance, and he slowly pushed it in. My jaw dropped as my breathing got a little shaky, and Sherlock would give a few light pumps every couple inches so I could get used to it little by little.

I was moaning how I usually moaned, my breathing just a little harder, and I was thankful he didn't turn on the vibration yet. Instead, Sherlock worked it deep in me to where I felt the clit nubs against my clit. I licked my lips and rocked my hips slightly to feel them a bit better.

And _that's_ when Sherlock turned the dial.

It was on the lowest setting, which was still intense, and made me yell out, my eyes open wide. I whimpered, moaning loudly, my thighs shaking and trying to close. He held them open, and I whined out his name, pulling on the cuffs, wanting to shut myself up.

Sherlock thrust the dildo in and out of me, driving me absolutely insane, and he soon got the idea of taking it out and pressing the tip against my clit.

He did that before slipping it back in and increasing the vibration, and tears sprung up in my eyes as I moaned, swearing and pleading with his name.

He pressed it against my clit again and turned the vibration all the way up, and that made me scream and come almost immediately.

Sherlock took the vibrator away, turning it off, and I just took shaky breaths as I tried to calm down.

"Turn over for a second, love. Let me get those cuffs off you." He said and I forced myself to turn over, and he freed my hands. I lied back as he got a washcloth, and cleaned me up, then got some tissues and wiped my tears as he held me. He also rubbed my wrists, which were a little red from where I pulled on the cuffs.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" He asked and I shook my head, and Sherlock continued to rub my wrists.

"Do you hate me?" He then asked softly.

"What? No." I said in a rough voice, then tried to clear it. "No, I don't hate you, Sherlock," I whispered.

"We're definitely putting honey in your tea." He hummed, stroking my cheek, and I gave him a smile.


	16. He will do very well

I learned that day that Sherlock was super serious about aftercare. He made me tea with honey, and forced me to drank all of it, and monitored how much I used my voice so I could get it better faster.

I tried to tell him it was fine, I was sort of used to screaming myself hoarse, but he insisted. I think he didn't want to admit he felt guilty.

Anyway, he made it clear he'd always clean me up, always take care of any marks (and tears if there were any), always get me some sort of comfort food or drink, and always, _always_ cuddle with me after.

I told him he was perfect, and he said 'bullshit.'

Sherlock also promised he wouldn't always be so rough with me. He said he had plans to take me nice and slow soon, and I began dreaming of that time to come.

When I took a nap next to him after he mentioned that, my dreams were filled with images of Sherlock hovering over me in his nude glory, panting slightly, sweating, looking absolutely beautiful in pleasure. I pictured how his hips would look as he thrust slowly into me, taking his sweet ass time with pleasuring us both. It put butterflies in my stomach and chest.

I woke up to Sherlock kissing my face, telling me it was time for lunch, and I had to eat to get my energy back. I forced myself up and got a new pair of panties and a T-shirt as Sherlock ordered some food for us.

I joined him on the couch where he put in a movie, and I noticed as I walked that my legs were still a little shaky. Sherlock seemed to notice, too, and pursed his lips slightly as I sat down. I leaned against him, smiling happily, trying to convince him I was alright. He worried too much.

"So I have some good news," Sherlock started.

"Yeah?" I smiled up at him.

"I solved that case with the sugar babies, and I'm taking a small break from taking cases." He said.

"Okay. Why?" I asked.

He took a small breath before looking at me. "Do you want to go on vacation with me?"

I smiled a little wider. "Where?" I asked.

"I have a few places picked out." He hummed and ran his fingers across my skin.

"Like where?" I asked, keeping my eyes on him.

"Oh, a few places in Italy, some places in Greece, one in Spain, one in Thailand..." He hummed.

"Those are some pretty warm places." I chuckled, and he gave me a little smile.

"What can I say? I like seeing you in as little clothing as possible." Sherlock said, making me chuckle.

"Okay..." I thought, biting my lip. "How about one with a beach, and where we could have tons of privacy?"

Sherlock hummed and thought for a moment. "Koh Tao, Thailand." He nodded and looked at me. "It's an island with a bunch of beaches, and a lot of private hotels, most of which have private pools."

"Count me in." I grinned, and my doorbell rang, so Sherlock kissed my head and got up to get our food.

So in the next day or so, Sherlock booked us a week and a half long vacation in Thailand, with what he said was one of the best rooms they had to offer.

I was way too excited but was working on keeping myself cool.

I spent way too much time planning what I would pack. I had a huge luggage bag that I stuffed with bikinis, tank tops, crop tops, shorts, short skirts, mini dresses, panties, and some sandals. I also hid my dildo in the clothes, because of reasons. A smaller bag held my makeup, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, razor, all that stuff. I made sure I had enough of my prescriptions to get me through the vacation, and I did. Go me.

When the day to leave came, Sherlock got my bags in the cab that would get us to the airport. I zoned out a good portion of the airport, mainly because it was so boring.

"Do you know Thai?" I asked as we boarded a private jet, that thought suddenly entering my mind.

"Learned it a few days ago." He nodded.

"How the-" I paused, then nodded. "Right. You're Sherlock Holmes. I forget that sometimes."

I then looked around the interior of the jet, and I was thoroughly impressed. It looked expensive as hell.

"Courtesy of Mycroft." Sherlock hummed, and I set my bag down and looked around. There were a couple of chairs facing each other, there was a bar, and there was an extremely comfortable looking sofa with a TV right in front of it.

"I didn't think he could be courteous." I hummed and Sherlock gave a little laugh. He led me over to some chairs and we sat down.

After we took off, it was safe to walk around. I went to the bar and studied the bottles before I grabbed an Irish whiskey and poured a glass. I offered a glass to Sherlock, but he said he was fine.

I went over to the sofa, taking a drink, and reached for Sherlock. He chuckled lightly and joined me. I set the glass down, grabbed the remote and curled up next to Sherlock.

It didn't take long to find a crime show, and I felt Sherlock sigh a little.

"You just like it when I solve the case before they do." He said, putting an arm around me.

"Yeah, I do." I smiled at him. "It's impressive."

"Really?" Sherlock looked over at me, and I nodded. "John usually tells me to shut up."

"Well, I'm not," I said and grabbed my glass taking another drink. When I set it down, Sherlock tilted my chin towards him, and he slowly kissed me. I fell into it and reciprocated when he slipped his tongue past my lips and massaged mine, driving me fucking crazy.

And then he pulled back and gave me a little smirk. "Whiskey tastes better off your tongue." He said in a low voice, stirring up things in me.

Sherlock didn't do anymore, though, as he sat back again and began solving the case on TV.


	17. I can tell, I can tell

Some thirteen hours later, we were in Thailand, and on the island of Koh Tao. Sherlock got us a cab to our hotel, and my jaw dropped once we got in the room with our luggage.

"King size bed, kitchenette, a pretty good bathroom, room service, free WiFi, a view, a private balcony, and a private infinity pool that goes right to the edge." Sherlock hummed once we set our bags down.

I opened the door to the balcony and stepped out, looking at the view.

"Holy shit." I breathed at seeing the ocean and the forest below us. "I wanna live here."

"I bet you do." Sherlock stood behind me, pressing a kiss to my hair as he held me. "Come on. We have to unpack a bit, then we can have some fun."

I followed him back into the room. "Yeah? Like what?" I smiled as I unzipped my bag.

"I may just wear you out. Help you with the jetlag." He hummed and opened a drawer to arrange his clothes in.

I kept that little smile on my face as I unpacked, organizing my clothes in the dresser, setting the dildo aside, ignoring Sherlock smirking at it.

Once I had all my shit sorted out, I fell on the bed with a sigh, feeling how soft it was. Sherlock finished up with his unpacking, and I saw he brought the handcuffs and the other vibrator.

He came over, and I gave him a little smile as his hands wrapped around my ankles, and he tugged me down the bed. I giggled as he took my shoes off, and undid the button on my shorts, and unzipped them, and slid them down my legs.

"You look like you're thinking hard." I hummed as his fingers pushed my shirt up.

"I am." Sherlock hummed, and I sat up a little so he could take my shirt off of me. "There's just so many things I could do..."

I bit my lip softly as he slid my bra straps down my arms, then reached behind me and undid the clasp. Sherlock slid it off me, then ran his fingers across my chest, letting his thumbs catch on my nipples.

I looked up at him for a moment, then raised my hands to undo the buttons on his shirt. I slid up and onto my knees on the bed, and pushed his shirt off, then joined us together in a kiss, and let my hands trace down his skin to find his belt and undo that.

As I worked on his pants, Sherlock deepened our kiss and began tracing me over my underwear, making me hum softly. He slid his hand into my panties and rubbed around before sliding two fingers in, making me gasp and moan softly, breaking the kiss.

I had undone his pants completely but didn't have the chance to push them down before I held onto his shoulders, scratching him lightly as he fingered me, curling his fingers to press against that sensitive spot in me.

I gasped a little louder, my mouth falling open, and I could feel his eyes watching my every move.

"Good girl..." He praised softly, and I shivered, the simple words making me weak. "Panties off, and stay on your knees." He ordered as he drew his fingers from me.

I did as he said, getting rid of my panties, and watched as he took off his own pants and boxers. He was about half mast, and I licked my lips a little, just imagine what he would look like fully hard.

Sherlock sat with me, and he grabbed the dildo. "Get it nice and wet for me, love." He said, and I obediently opened my mouth, taking it between my lips, and let the jelly-like material fill my mouth.

Sherlock's breathing got a little harder, and I peeked and saw him hardening up as he watched me blow the dildo. Once it was good enough I was kneeling over one of his thighs, my face by his crotch as he rubbed the dildo against me, making me moan and squirm. I had an idea of what he had planned, and I was a little excited.

Sherlock pushed it into me, making me moan and bite my lip, and his other hand rubbed my back soothingly. Once he got a good tempo, I pushed my hair over and got onto my elbows, and began to lick and kiss at his tip.

I should have known that teasing him wouldn't work for long. Sherlock pulled the dildo out of me and pressed it hard against my clit, then turned the vibration on, making me jump, and he moved his hips up slightly, making me take him into my mouth.

He lowered back down and I followed, moaning as I bobbed my head and he kept it against my clit.

"Tell me, love, do you think I should put this back into you, make you feel those vibrations so deep, or should I just keep it here?" He said, pressing the tip harder against my clit.

I pulled off and gasped. "There! There! Please, right there." I begged, my back arching a bit.

I saw him smirk, and he turned up the vibration. I hissed through my teeth and moaned, clawing the sheets, and I forced myself to go back down on him and get him to come. I could already feel myself dripping all down my thighs.

I made myself take him deeper, relaxing my throat a bit. My thighs shook, but I just tried to focus on what I was doing.

That became hard when he turned it up again, and I pulled myself off, breathing deeply and swearing loudly as my back arched.

"Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, Sherlock! Sherlo-" I cut myself off with a moan.

"I love how fast you get close with these." He hummed and once again, gave me no mercy as I stayed in place, twitching and babbling and coming.

He pulled the toy away and turned it off, and was about to get up, but I stopped him, bringing my mouth back down onto him.

"No, Blair, you don't need to-" Sherlock moaned and licked his lips, and I mentally beamed when I heard his pants and groans. His hand met my hair and kept it back from my face, and I was only encouraged to do better when he began tensing and twitching under me.

Sherlock came in my mouth, and I made myself swallow it, then pulled back, taking deep breaths.

Sherlock was also breathing deep, staring at me where I lay. "You didn't have to do that." He said breathily.

"I wanted to." I smiled at him.

Sherlock chuckled and got up, leaning over me, and he gave me a kiss, which I drank up.

"You're so good to me." He hummed, stroking my cheek, and I read adoration in his eyes. "I'll be right back." He pecked my lips again before walking off.

I was growing more and more excited for the cuddles as he was cleaning up my thighs, and was growing impatient when he went to go put the dirty washcloth away for cleaning.

"Finally." I sighed when he lied down, and I curled up to him. Sherlock chuckled, bringing his arms around me, tangling our legs.

"Don't judge me. The cuddles are the best part after." I pouted.

"I'm not judging you, love. I just find you cute." He smiled at me and planted kisses onto my skin, making me smile happily again.


	18. Keep me safe

After I had slept a good long while, and Sherlock got some sleep too, it was the next day and we got ourselves some breakfast before we headed down to the beach together.

Sherlock said we might want to get our fill of the beach in early. I asked why, and he said because you can't be nude on a public beach, but you can be nude in a private pool.

I have no idea how he got so horny.

I made sure we both had on enough sunscreen, and Sherlock was the one who made sure we were plenty hydrated, both with water and alcohol.

I got out of the water and tied my hair up, and heard some whistles as I walked over to Sherlock, preparing a towel for me. I looked over and saw a group of guys, then rolled my eyes and ignored them, and Sherlock handed my towel to me.

I dried off a bit before drying my hair, then put my shoes on as I just put the towel across my shoulders.

"I could harass them a bit if you'd like." Sherlock offered, and I smiled up at him.

"No. We wouldn't want to start a fight." I shook my head. "Also, I'm getting kinda hungry, and I need to wash this salt out of my hair." I then smirked at him. "You could help with that if you want."

Sherlocked looked shocked for a split second before he grinned. "You know me so well." He then took my hand and pulled me along, back to our room.

Once we were in, I stripped and stepped into the bathroom, and then closed the door with a smile.

"You said I could help you," Sherlock said from the other side when I locked it.

"Yeah, well, I'm a tease." I hummed and ran water from the showerhead to let it get warm before I stepped in.

I knew I was probably going to pay for this, but that just excited me.

I kept my shower brief, quickly washing off sunscreen and salt, and scrubbing my scalp and rinsing thoroughly. I stepped out and dried off, keeping my hair in a towel as I stepped out of the bathroom, naked, and slipped off the towel as I slid on a dress, no panties.

"You are a tease." Sherlock shook his head at me from our bed, and I gave him a sweet smile. "I ordered room service. Should be here in a bit."

"Fun." I hummed and grabbed the TV remote and turned on the TV as I sat on the couch after tossing the towel.

I heard Sherlock get up, and he moved behind me and pushed my hair aside. I kept my smile at bay as he leaned down and began kissing at my neck and shoulder.

"Have I ever told you how much I love your shampoo?" He hummed, and I let my smile crack just a little.

"Nope." I hummed.

"I really do," He breathed and trailed his lips up to my ear, teasing it, and I bit my lip softly. He went back down and placed hot open-mouthed kisses on my neck, and I was trying to hide all evidence of feeling anything.

"Give in," Sherlock murmured against my skin, and I shook my head.

"Food's coming." I hummed, keeping my eyes on the TV screen.

I then felt his teeth scrape my skin, and I held back a shiver. "Give in," He said again, kissing across my shoulder, moving to the other side.

"No. At least not until after we've eaten." I said, half telling myself.

His hand slipped down and grabbed my dress, pulling it up my thighs just slightly as he continued to kiss my skin.

Then there was a knock at the door, and I smirked as Sherlock groaned. "Aren't you glad I didn't give in?" I said smugly as he stood back up to get some money and our food.

He brought it back and sat beside me, and slid over two bowls, one of Pad Thai and one of fried rice. He learned how much I liked fried rice from all the times we ordered Chinese.

I considered teasing him a little more as we watched TV and ate. In fact, I wasn't really even watching the TV. I was too busy thinking about shifting on the couch to face him, maybe put my legs across his lap... maybe I'd sit in a way deemed unladylike.

"What are you thinking about?" Sherlock asked when I set the empty rice bowl down as I finished.

"Things." I hummed.

"Naughty things?" I saw him smirk, and I just gave him a look.

"Who's to say?" I sighed as I leaned back.

"The scent of the pheromones you're giving off," Sherlock said, and I turned to stare at him, and he calmly looked back at me. "You learn to recognize them. It's not that clever of an idea to not wear panties around me, love."

I then covered my face with my hands. "Did you have to tell me you can smell me?" I groaned, now embarrassed.

"What? It's not like you smell bad or anything." He shrugged slightly.

"But what if I did?!" I groaned, sliding down slightly. "It's not like I have any idea what anything smells like."

"Blair, calm down. It's nothing bad..." Sherlock sighed, and brought my hands down and made me look at him after he set his empty bowl down as well.

I just frowned slightly, and he sighed and stroked my cheek. "Love, trust me, it's fine. Really. It drives me mad, in fact."

"It does?" I felt the heat rise up the back of my neck.

"I've written a blog on identifying perfumes, and none smell as sweet." Sherlock got a little closer, lowering his voice. "None of them also made me want to put my head under your dress so bad..."

I blushed a little and bit my lip. "Really?"

"Really." He nodded.

I let my hands fall into my lap, and I lifted up the skirt of my dress a couple of inches, and Sherlock turned me to sit sideways on the couch before he ducked under the material. He didn't waste a second parting my legs and devouring me, making me cry out and writhe against the cushions.

I still didn't really believe the effect I had on him.


	19. In his bell tower hotel

My favorite part of vacation so far as the days passed was just starting. I woke up early, before the sun rose, and slipped out of bed while Sherlock was still asleep. I slipped on my bikini and went out to the balcony, leaving the door cracked. I sat out there for some time, then decided to slip in the pool and swim right up to the edge and watch the sunrise.

I was worried I might freeze, but I did a little research before the trip and found that the lowest temperature Koh Tao got to is only about seventy degrees. So I was pretty safe.

I heard the door slide open and felt the water move, and I smiled as familiar hands met my sides.

"Pretty." Sherlock hummed, and I kept staring with a little smile on my face. Sherlock kissed my cheek and left me, and I peeked and saw him just sitting on the stairs, the water to his stomach. Then I noticed something.

"Are you naked?" I asked, furrowing my brows.

"Yes," Sherlock said as if it were perfectly normal, and I gave a little laugh. "Why aren't you?" He just asked and I rolled my eyes.

"No, really, Blair. Come on." He nodded. "It's called a private pool for a reason." He then reached a hand out to me.

I figured he wanted a little show, and the throbbing between my thighs made me want to give him that show. So I started to make my way over, untying the straps of my bikini top, and let it fall before I unhooked the back. I blushed as I slid down the bottoms under the water, and set them on the wood of the balcony beside the pool as I reached him.

Sherlock brought me on his lap, and I felt he was hard. I blushed harder and bit my lip.

"I'm not having sex with you in a pool. Private or not." I said softly.

"Why not?" Sherlock asked.

"Water and pussies don't mix," I said and he gave a little laugh as he stroked my sides.

"Fair. But that doesn't mean we can't get started in the pool." Sherlock licked his lips before he kissed me. It only lasted a moment before he pulled back.

"Before I forget, you took your birth control, right?" He asked, and I chuckled and nodded.

"Never missed a day," I said.

Sherlock smiled and kissed me again, running his hands across my skin as I kept a hand in his hair, one tracing his skin.

Before now, there had been no sex involving his dick going in my pussy before. I know everyone had their own definition of what sex was, but my definition of real sex was genitals meeting genitals in some way. For heterosexual sex, as Sherlock was male and I was female, dick into vagina (or my ass, but as far as I knew, we weren't doing anal). So, to me, we haven't really had sex yet, it's all just been varying degrees of foreplay.

His kiss got a little hungrier as he kissed me harder, and soon his hands were pressing me to him. I rolled my hips a little against his, which felt heavenly in the water.

Sherlock left my lips to kiss and suck at my neck, and I gave soft little gasps, especially when his hardness brushed my clit.

"Bed?" He asked before paying attention to my breasts.

I shook my head. "Don't wanna get the sheets wet."

Sherlock looked up and around quickly before he spotted the hammock on our balcony. He smirked a little and helped me up, then stood up himself and brought us over. He got in, and held my hand, helping me above him.

"You know how much I love you in my lap." He gave me a smile, and I just felt the permanent blush on my cheeks. One of his hands held my hip, and I started to rock against him again.

"Is this safe?" I asked, looking up where the hammock hung.

"Pretty sure, yeah. And if it breaks, we can sue." Sherlock gave a little shrug, and a laugh bubbled up and out of me before I could stop it.

Sherlock chuckled and traced my side, moaning softly as I brushed against his length. He then sat up and carefully lied me back. I kept my eyes on him, giving him all my trust.

Sherlock dipped down and kissed me softly, rolling his hips against mine, and I moaned a little, my fingers curling where I held his shoulder.

"Ready, Blair?" He asked and I hummed and nod. I actually couldn't wait. I parted my legs just a little wider and got a good footing as Sherlock lowered himself down to my body again.

I felt him brush against me, and he started to press in. I pressed my lips together and watched, my jaw dropping as he went deeper and deeper in me, my breath shuddering out of me.

I raised my head, and Sherlock got the message and kissed me, and he lightly thrust in and out of me, doing as he promised, taking it nice and slow.

It was mindblowing, and my whimpers never ceased. I wanted more, but I also wanted to just stay here in this relaxed, blissful state.

I couldn't help myself, though, and began to softly moan his name.

"Sherlock... hnn... more, please..." I begged.

"You want more?" He breathed, his voice low and a bit husky, making emotions stir in me. I nodded quickly, lacing my fingers through his hair. Sherlock increased his pace a little, groaning as my moan got caught in my throat.

"You feel... so good." He sighed, looking pleasured and so beautiful. "Just... so good, Blai. You're perfect."

"I'm hardly-" I tried.

"You're perfect." Sherlock shook his head and insisted. "How do you feel? Do you feel okay? Am I doing okay?" His eyes suddenly opened, and he sounded worried.

I smiled and traced his cheek. "You're perfect," I said and got a breathtaking smile before a sweet, long kiss.

As Sherlock got closer and closer to his release, he brought his hand down and stroked my clit how he knew I liked. He had me gasping and clutching to him, and I somehow came before he did, my moans sounding like cries more than anything. Sherlock swore lowly and his head dropped, his hair tickling my chest as he came, and I felt his hot come for a moment before it cooled and he pulled out of me.

Sherlock lied back at the other end of the hammock by my legs, and he kept his hold on me, his fingers tracing the skin on my thighs and down to my ankles.

I smiled softly as I watched him, and it became harder and harder to keep my eyes open.

I also had the urge to say 'I love you,' but knew that would just bring me no good.


	20. Money is the anthem

Our ten days of vacation were up, and we flew back to London. And if I thought Sherlock couldn't keep his hands off me before... before was nothing compared to now.

Sherlock had to keep his hands off me for a week about two weeks after we came back from vacation, as I had my period and wouldn't let him touch me. I noticed it was a bit light this time around, but I didn't really question it.

What I did question however was the look on John's face when a brunette woman walked into 221B with a little smile on.

"I heard the rumors... I never expected them to be true." She hummed, looking at Sherlock, and he just hummed and rubbed my back a little where he held me on his lap.

"You're dead. You're supposed to be dead. I was told you were beheaded." John said, exasperated, and I was incredibly confused.

"Almost beheaded." She corrected and went over to the couch. "A certain little someone came to my rescue, didn't they, Sherlock dear?" She asked, and my eyebrows twitched a little.

"You knew she was alive?" John looked at Sherlock, who just hummed. "And you just sat there, knowing I was lying to you. Amazing." John shook his head.

I opened my mouth to ask who this woman was, but she beat me to it.

"So, who's the lapdog, Sherlock?" She asked.

"Irene, Blair. Blair, Irene." Sherlock just sighed, his hand slipping from my back to my hip and held me a bit tighter. He only did this in public if he wanted to protect me from something. Did he mean to protect me from her?

"Well, let's have a look, shall we?" She stood up and I heard heels clicking.

Sherlock just leaned close to my ear. "Go to my room, close the door, don't answer it." He said, and I nodded and got up, keeping my eyes down as I went.

I closed the door softly, and had the urge to eavesdrop, but decided against it. I sat down on Sherlock's bed and decided to wait it out, and soon found myself a bit tired.

I kicked my shoes off and got under his covers, and curled up into the warmth and promptly dozed off.

I was gently shaken awake and blinked heavily as I made Sherlock's form out, and I gave a small yawn.

"Hey, are you alright, love?" He traced my hair.

"Yeah. I'm just a bit tired, is all." I took a deep breath, now a little more awake. "Who was that woman? Irene?" I asked.

"She's no one." Sherlock shook his head, and my brows rose. I took another breath and sat myself up, staring at him.

"So you sent me into your room and told me to not answer the door over no one?" I asked and he looked down. "Nobody is no one, Sherlock. Don't lie to me."

"She was involved in a case I worked some time ago. She was the case I worked." He started slowly. "She... sort of became sentimental towards me."

My brows rose even more at that. "At one point, I may have held a little sentiment for her, too, but that was ages ago and it's not there anymore." He shook his head.

"Is she still sentimental?" I asked, just staring.

"Just a little." He admitted, and I pursed my lips and nodded. "Blair, you must believe that I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. I care about you too much."

I just blinked as his eyes met mine. "Babies don't get upset, Sherlock. I'm fine." I said with a blank face.

"Blair, no. I've told you from the start to show your emotions. None of that perfect girlfriend shit. Be human." Sherlock held my arms.

"I don't know what you want from me." I shook my head. "Do you want me to be jealous? To be upset?"

"I... I don't know. Maybe." He shrugged. "Just... don't be nothing."

I closed my eyes and sighed. "Sherlock, I'm really too tired for this. And what do I care who has feelings for you? I've met tons of people already who have feelings for you." I shrugged. "There's no point in getting upset or jealous because I know you're not going to do anything with their feelings." I blinked tiredly.

One of Sherlock's hands left my arm and held my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. "Fair point. Okay. But you do know that I never want to hurt you in any way?" He looked deep into my eyes.

"Yes. Jesus." I sighed. "You're kind of sleeping with me, not to mention spending twenty-four seven with me."

Sherlock chuckled and kissed my forehead.

"Can I go back to sleep now?" I closed my eyes.

"Yes. You're sure you're feeling alright?" He traced my hair as I lied back down.

"Peachy." I yawned. Sherlock kissed my head again before turning out the light and let me doze off again.

I had dreamed I was on a boat, and everything was calm and peaceful, and then everything went silent, and I was uncomfortable.

It took only a second for the seas to become wild, and I made myself cling onto the rail of the boat to hold on for dear life.

I then heard high cries, and I stood up, looking around to find the source of the crying. While searching, I was thrown from the boat and into the water, where I then found I couldn't swim. The water pressed in on me from all sides, suffocated me. It grew darker as I sunk, and I hadn't noticed, but the cries grew louder and deafening.

At least until I woke up, staring at Sherlock's wall with a heavy feeling in my chest that I couldn't put a name to.


	21. Of success

Some weeks later, after I woke up at three a.m. vomiting for the third day in a row, I got myself dressed and down to a 24-hour shop, and got a pregnancy test.

I also got myself some snacks and couldn't stop thinking about how impossible it was, but I just wanted to be sure.

So I went back home and took the test, eating my snacks as I waited, and nearly burst into tears when the two blue lines came up.

Quickly making up my mind, as it was now four thirty in the morning, I dressed myself a little better and did a touch of makeup to look a bit decent.

I called my doctor's office when they opened, and they fit me in at eight in the morning. So I sat and waited anxiously, then grabbed my bag and got a cab over.

I checked in and waited in the waiting room, trying not to make my nervousness not as noticeable.

When they called my name, I went back and sat on the table, my foot now unable to stop tapping.

"Miss Pitch. How are you?" My doctor, a very charismatic Indian lady, stepped in and took a seat. "Ah, well, if you were good, or great, or fine, you wouldn't be here, would you?" She gave me a warm smile, and I smiled a little.

"What's the issue, Blair?" She scooted closer in her rolly chair.

"I've woken up at three a.m. every morning for the past few days, nauseous and vomiting. So, I got a pregnancy test, and it said I was pregnant. But I've been on birth control for... years now." I explained.

Her brows furrowed. "We can do another test here, just to be sure." She said. "But, Blair, the chances of you being pregnant are slim. I mean, wildly, incredibly slim."

"That's why I want to be sure." I nodded.

So they got a urine sample from me, took a vial of blood, and if both of those came back positive, they were going to do a sonogram, like an ultrasound.

Some thirty minutes later or something while I was waiting for the results of the urine and blood tests, I got a text from Sherlock, asking if I was coming today. I told him I was a bit busy, but I'd swing over when I was free.

A nurse came in and took me to another room, where I saw the screens of an ultrasound.

"They came back positive." I sighed as I took a seat on the table.

"We're just as baffled." She gave me a sympathetic smile. She readied the gel and got a sheet to cover me as I slid my jeans down my hips and raised my shirt up a little. She spread the gel over me, then got the wand.

"This is just to check if the baby is okay since you've been taking birth control this whole time." She said and I nodded. She kept her eyes on the screen and searched around a little.

"Well, it's the size of a kidney bean, but everything looks fine. She'll probably find you an OBGYN and request you make many, many appointments, just to be sure there won't be any defects or issues along the way." She said and handed me a paper towel. "Do you want a picture?"

"I'll wait until it gets a bit bigger." I chuckled as I wiped off my stomach, hiding my utter horror.

I soon left and instead of going to Baker Street, I went home and broke down the second I got in.

I had to tell Sherlock. I knew I had to tell Sherlock. But what if he hates me? I mean, he's Sherlock fucking Holmes, he can't exactly deal with a baby while solving extremely dangerous cases. And who was I? I'm just a sugar baby he knocked up.

I cleared my face, gathered myself, and walked out again, getting a cab to Baker Street.

Will he blame me? Will he regret ever sleeping with me? What if he regrets hiring me in general? Oh Gods, what if he never wants to see me again?

I paid the cabbie and got out, feeling shakier and more nauseous with every step I climbed up.

John was sitting his chair was the first thing I know, and I blamed my luck. Before I could even get a word out, Sherlock stood up and came over, lifting my chin.

"You've been crying. Why?" He demanded, and it only made me tear up. I let my bag fall to the floor and I hugged him tightly, crying into his shirt, not giving a shit about dignity right now; I was scared shitless.

"Blair, Blair, hey." Sherlock tried to comfort me, and he walked me over to his chair and made me sit, and he knelt by me. John was leaning forward in worry as well.

"Blair, what's happened?" Sherlock stroked my hair and held my hand.

"Has someone hurt you?" John asked.

I shook my head and tried to collect myself, but with Sherlock actually in front of me, it was just harder and harder as I tried.

Fuck, this would be easier if I did get a picture. I wouldn't have to find my voice, I could just show them.

"John, maybe some tea?" Sherlock asked and he got up to get it.

Sherlock moved a little closer and began wiping my tears with his thumb. "Love, whatever it is, it's going to be okay." He spoke softly.

"I'm sorry." I managed to get out.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" He looked confused.

Well, here goes nothing.

"I'm pregnant." I sniffed, and he went still with slightly wider eyes and parted lips.

I waited a moment for anything, but he was just frozen. That wasn't really helping my nerves.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Sherlock." I sniffed and hung my head.

"No," He breathed, and I flinched a little.

"I'm sorry." More hot tears poured out of my eyes.

"No, stop apologizing, Blair." Sherlock held my hand a little tighter. "You've nothing to be sorry for." He wiped my cheeks clean again.

"You're sure?" He asked as John set a mug down next to me. I sniffed and nodded. "Absolutely sure?"

"I took four fucking tests, yeah, I'm pretty sure." I wiped my eye as I spoke.

"You said you never missed a day." Sherlock looked confused, and John just stood there, no idea what was going on.

"I never missed a day." I shook my head. "I went to the doctor's office, and the doctors and nurses were just as confused."

"You're pr..." John suddenly got it and looked shocked. "How far along are you?" He asked.

"About six weeks, they said," I said. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes.

"Thailand." He breathed. "Six and a half weeks ago, we were in Thailand."

"And?" I asked.

"The time zones," John said. "If you took your birth control at the same time every day here, your chances of getting pregnant are less than a percent. But when you changed time zones, the time switched around a bit. So you were technically taking them at either a later time, or you skipped about two days altogether. That raises the chances." He explained.

"Okay, sure, but it's still low, though," I said and John shrugged.

"Medicine's weird that way."


	22. So put on mascara

Sherlock soon took me to his room to talk privately, taking my hand and my mug and he kicked his door shut.

I became nervous again as I sat on his bed, mug in my hands, and he crossed his arms.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Stop saying sorry. Why do you keep saying sorry?" He sighed, and I bit my lip. "Blair, I'm not mad at you. Nor do I blame you. This is both of our doings."

I kept my head down. "Do you hate me?"

"No," He held my hands again and dropped to his knees. He took my mug and set it aside, holding onto my hands. "No, Blair, I could never hate you. Especially not over something like this."

I sniffed, smiling a little.

"I do have one question, though," Sherlock said and licked his lips. "Are... are you going to keep it?"

There it was. I was waiting for that question.

"I don't know." I shook my head. "I don't know if I'm ready to be a mom, I don't know if I could even afford it. I mean, having a baby is expensive, I know it's expensive..." I trailed off, so many more worries in my head that I just couldn't say out loud.

"Blair, love, it's your choice, it is, but uh..." Sherlock started, and I prepared for the worst. "I would prefer it if you kept it."

Oh.

I blinked and met his eyes, and I knew he could read my surprise clear as day. "You- you would?"

"Yes." He nodded, looking completely sincere. "I can afford to have a baby. I've been supporting you for quite some time now, you know I can do that." He ran his thumb over my knuckles and lowered his own head.

"Sherlock, what is it?" I asked softly, knowing that expression of his.

"I just... I always hear people talking, especially at Scotland Yard, about how our relationship isn't a real one. I've heard some say I'm a blind idiot to think it's real." He shook his head. "I just worried for a moment that you didn't want the baby because you don't believe it's real, either."

My heart broke, and I took back one of my hands and held his cheek, and pulled him up onto his bed beside me.

"No, no, no, Sherlock. It's definitely real. Completely real. So very, very real." I sniffed and put my head against his shoulder in relief. "There have been times, you have no idea how many times I've wanted to do something or say something, but I held myself back because I thought you would think it was silly of me to say. That you would say something like, 'it's not like we're actually together' or some bullshit." I chuckled a little at my own stupidity now that I knew he felt the same.

"Say them now," Sherlock said softly.

And so I did.

"I love you," I said with a little chuckle. "And I know that most, if not all people would say I only love you because you buy me things and spoil me, but that's not it at all. Our first meeting as we went over details, you told me I could wear whatever I wanted. The first time you took me out, to that Italian place where we get everything for free, you told me I could express my feelings, act how I wanted. That is... unheard of for sugar babies. Most times when we went out after, I'd be self-conscious and think that if another baby were to see me, I'd be called a disgrace. I'd be shunned." I shook my head a little.

"But it was freedom. It was this really small freedom that I haven't known for years, and I thought myself crazy for fixating on it so much. And gifts? You put thought into them, and you made sure they weren't generic gifts. You made sure they'd specifically be for me. You make sure they're gifts I'll actually like, and I won't give you a fake smile and accept it so you keep giving me more pointless things and money." I rolled my eyes, chuckling a little.

"And as time went on, especially when we would just spend days doing nothing together, going nowhere, just curled up in your chair... those were some of the best days of my life. And I thought... I thought that I could've gone without the money and the gifts because I was so happy just sitting there with you." I teared up again.

"And I thought I was so stupid for thinking such things, and then I found out I was pregnant today... I thought you'd hate me. I thought you would hate me, and you would never want to see me again. And that just about killed me because I never, ever want to lose you. Ever." I shook my head as my voice wobbled, and Sherlock pulled me into a hug, and I buried my face in his shoulder.

"I love you, too." He said in my ear and kissed my hair. "I love you, too, you hear me? You are one of the very few people that accepts me as the sociopathic dickhead that I am. And you love me. You have no idea how... how... marvelous it is to know that you love me."

Sherlock pulled back a little and kissed my forehead. "You and our baby will want for nothing, I will make sure of it. You two will be spoiled to the Gods." He smiled, making me smile.

"You don't have to." I started to shake my head, and he caught my cheeks.

"I want to." He said, looking sincere as he stroked my cheek with his thumbs. "That just leaves one thing."

"What's that?" I asked and he stood up and opened the door, and I followed as he walked out, turning to John.

"John, you wouldn't mind too much if I left Baker Street, would you?" He asked, surprising both me and John. "I would ask Blair to move in here, but there's no way we could fit all of her things, and also, her flat is much, much nicer than ours, and I am no way taking that from her, but since I want to stay close to her and the baby, you wouldn't mind? Right?"

"You're keeping it then?" John asked after a moment, and we both nodded. He smiled and stood up. "I'm happy for you both. No, Sherlock, I don't mind at all." He said and brought him in for a proud hug.

"Do feel free to tell everyone you know, and if you can, I'd like pictures of their faces," Sherlock said with a grin, and I laughed as John hugged me.

"I'd disagree, but that's too funny to pass up. Please take pictures." I chuckled.

"You two are so evil." John sighed. "But that does sound funny." He agreed.


	23. And your party dress

I don't think I've ever seen Sherlock smile so much than when he was moving into my flat. And when everything was said and done, he came and curled up with me on the couch where I sat with some tea, and he ordered a number of kisses to my cheek, making me giggle.

"Happy, are we?" I asked.

"I'm excited. Can you blame me? I'm going to be a father, Blair. We're going to be parents." He sounded elated and rested a hand on my lower abdomen.

"Are you going to tell your family?" I asked.

"Ah, I suppose I better, shouldn't I?" He sighed, and I giggled a little and kissed his cheek. "What of your family?"

"They stopped talking to me when I was seventeen," I said and sipped my tea.

"They... why?" Sherlock stared at me, and I looked over.

"I told my mom I didn't want to go to university. She told the rest of my family, and they were pretty disappointed. I became a sugar baby after I graduated, and when they figured how I was affording new clothes and bags and whatever, I got the boot." I gave a small shrug.

"Oh, love, I'm sorry." Sherlock pulled me in a little closer. I closed my eyes as he kissed my head.

"You're still going to love me when I'm all huge and craving weird shit?" I looked up at him.

"Of course." Sherlock gave me a tiny smile.

"And when I'm an emotional mess?" I grinned.

"I'll make sure to complain behind your back." He joked.

"Oh, perfect." I nodded, a small laugh slipping from me. Sherlock smiled, adoration in his eyes, and turned my head and kissed me gently.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

"Yeah," I smiled a little. I haven't started craving things yet, but I always craved fatty food.

He got us up and out, and I wasn't even bothered when some people recognized him and began taking pictures. He just took my hand to keep me close, and I was having a hard time not beaming.

Sherlock got us into a fish and chips shop, and I was mainly here for the chips. When we were almost done, I looked up and saw Sherlock just watching me with a little smile on his face.

"What?" I couldn't help but smile myself.

"You." I watched his eyes flick around my face.

"What about me?" I asked, wondering what he was staring at. I had minimum makeup on and was in a huge sweater and leggings.

"You're beautiful," Sherlock smiled a little more.

"Shut up," I blushed, smiling to myself, thinking sappy thoughts as Sherlock checked his phone when it beeped.

"Stupid Lestrade," He sighed, and I raised my eyebrows in question. "He says he wants to 'talk to me.' He's never phrased it like that before, so I'm betting it's about our news."

"Ooh, I wanna come! I wanna see his face." I grinned, making Sherlock chuckle.

"Of course, you can come. And after, we can go home and you can come, too." He said, taking my hand to lead me out, and I pushed his arm as he smirked triumphantly.

We were already receiving looks at Scotland Yard and went into Lestrade's office, where he sat, his eyes flickering between the two of us.

"Is it true?" He asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said, a cute little smile on his lips.

Greg sighed and looked at me. "Blair, would you mind stepping out for a moment, please?"

I shifted my eyes to Sherlock, who now had his jaw set. "You can say whatever you like to me in front of her, too."

Greg looked at us again, then sighed. "Look, you two, don't you think enough is enough? Playing pretend is fun and all, but it's gone a bit far."

Both of our eyebrows raised.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked, crossing my arms, letting some venom seep into my voice.

Greg sighed and sat back a bit. "It's not really real, is it? What you two have, it's not an actual relationship-"

"And who the fuck are you to make that judgment?" I snapped, and he looked a bit shocked.

"Are you really even pregnant?" He asked, and I pursed my lips, rolling my eyes and stared at the wall. "I'm asking because we care about Sherlock here, and we're not letting you play him for money."

"Well, at least I know how you really feel about me," I said, trying to keep my emotions under control. It didn't help that being pregnant made your hormones crazy, and thus super emotional.

I didn't want to be here any longer, so I turned to walk out. Sherlock joined my side a minute later, his arm coming around, and got us into a cab. I knew he knew I was upset, and I was trying my hardest to keep my tears under control.

Once we got to my flat, though, I broke down a little. Sherlock sat me down on the couch and kept close, trying to comfort me. When I had myself mostly straightened out, I gathered my thoughts and found my voice.

"You don't think I'm faking it, do you?" I sniffled, and Sherlock pressed a kiss to my temple.

"Love, I've held your hair back for the past few mornings now. I know you're not faking this." He said, and I let a little giggle slip past my lips.

That made him smile, and he kept pressing kisses to my face and head until I was laughing. Sherlock also somehow had me lying on the couch so he could lean over me to make me laugh.

I heard him mumble that he loved me between kisses, which made me lace my fingers in his hair and bring his lips to mine.

Because I loved him, too.


	24. I'm your national anthem

I shouldn't have been surprised when I came home from the store and saw Mycroft with Sherlock inside, but I still was.

"And there's the mother. Congratulations, Blair." Mycroft gave me a forced smile.

"Thanks," I said, slowly going to the kitchen to put things away.

"Mycroft learned the news from John, and he told our parents, and they want to meet you," Sherlock called, and I poked my head out.

"Is that bad, or no?" I asked, studying them both.

"I imagine father will like her." Mycroft chuckled, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It shouldn't be too bad. Just dinner and torture." Sherlock groaned, and I then tilted my head. Sherlock looked at me, his eyes widening a little.

"You're not actually considering it, are you?" He asked, and Mycroft looked at me as well.

"Free food." I gave a weak shrug. Sherlock mouthed 'oh my god,' while Mycroft just looked so amused.

"You shouldn't come between pregnant women and food, brother mine." Mycroft teased, and Sherlock threw him a look, so I just slipped back into the kitchen before I got a look as well.

Mycroft called goodbye to me before I heard the door close, and then Sherlock was standing in the doorway, giving me the look I was trying to avoid.

"What?" I asked around a spoonful of chocolate ice cream.

"You would really endure a night of questioning and judgment from my parents and brother just for free food?" He asked.

"They can't be that bad, Sherlock." I rolled my eyes.

"You don't know them." He huffed and leaned on the counter, and I turned to look at him.

"You really don't want me to meet them?" I asked, and Sherlock pursed his lips a little.

"I don't mind you meeting, exactly. It's more of the talking I'm... uncomfortable with." I noticed him choosing his words carefully. "The questions they might ask you... us. I just know it won't turn out good, I can feel it. And I don't like seeing you upset. Also, negative emotions have got to be bad for the baby."

I giggled a little and dropped the spoon into the tub of ice cream before I went over and pressed my lips to Sherlock's. He earnestly kissed me back, leaning down to meet me so I wouldn't have to stretch up so much. I let his tongue part my lips, and since I loved the feel of his hair so much, I just had to reach up and run my fingers through it.

"I'm very touched that you care so much, Sherlock, but really. Are your parents like Mycroft?" I asked, looking into his pretty eyes.

"No..."

"Are they worse than him?" I asked, tilting my head.

"No."

"Then they're fine," I said, and Sherlock smiled a little as he saw my point.

"Fine. We can... have dinner with them, I guess." He gave in, making me smile. "But I wasn't done with you yet. Come here."

Sherlock then grinned and lifted me on the counter and kissed me. I giggled and held his jaw in both of my hands, letting him kiss me deeper and deeper. I loved how his fingers traced my thighs where I sat, and I was ready to let them part for him if he wanted.

But two days later, much to Sherlock's dismay, we were traveling to Wales so I could meet and have dinner with his parents. I was just thankful I wasn't showing yet.

Their house was cute and cozy, and Mrs. and Mr. Holmes made sure I felt right at home.

I was in the kitchen, listening to Mrs. Holmes telling stories of baby Sherlock and Mycroft. Sherlock wasn't enjoying it one bit. Though I could tell he was secretly happy underneath all those scoffs and eye rolls.

I wasn't paying attention to what was being prepared until it was out on the table. I then smiled a bit and shook my head before looking at Sherlock.

"I might've let slip some foods you liked." He gave a small shrug and pulled out my chair for me. I shook my head at him as he sat next to me.

"Sap." I hissed.

"Hush, you're eating for two now." He threw me a playful look.

I fixed myself a plate and dug in, pausing to answer questions from his parents.

"Well, have you thought of names?" Mr. Holmes asked.

I then looked up and was quiet for a moment. "No. Huh. We should probably do that." I looked at Sherlock, who looked all too amused.

"Well, as long as it's nothing ridiculous. For example, Mycroft. Just putting that out there..." Sherlock said, making me snicker as his mum swatted his arm.

"If she's a girl, I think I want something classic. Something timeless." I then gazed at Sherlock. "Like... Amelia or Clara or something. What do you think?"

"Sounds lovely. And if he's a boy?" His head tilted.

"Haven't given it any thought. I can feel she's a girl." I smiled.

"You... can feel it?" His brows raised.

"It's a real thing. I knew both you and Mike were boys far before any test told us so." Mrs. Holmes nodded to me. "It's a gut feeling."

After, Sherlock and I returned to our flat, where I kicked my shoes off and lied down to give my back a rest. Sherlock joined my side and tugged my shirt up, letting his hand slide over the slight protrusion between my hip bones.

"She'll be spoiled silly. Spoiled more than Princess Charlotte, probably." He hummed, and I smiled down at my stomach and his hand.

"I just want her happy." I sighed, letting my hand meet his on my stomach.


End file.
